Dainty made no answer. She was fluttering with girlish timidity at thought of the early marriage he was threatening. She said to herself:
"I love him dearly, but I am afraid I shall not like to be married soon. I have not enough dignity to look like a married lady."
Unconscious of her girlish fears, Love continued, fondly:
"The first day of August is my twenty-sixth birthday, and we must be married on that day, my darling."
"Oh, I—" she began; but he stopped the objection with a kiss.
"You are going to say you can not get ready so soon; but you need not make many preparations, love. I want you to wear my mother's wedding-dress; it is so beautiful—a white brocade, veiled in costly lace. And we will be married at Ellsworth. That will be better than going back to the hot city for a wedding—do you not think so? Oh, I intend to have everything my own way, sweet; and so I shall write to your mother to-day to come at once to Ellsworth."
"But Aunt Judith—and the girls? They will be fearfully angry," she whispered, tearfully.
"Yes, they will be very angry, I grant you. But Ellsworth belongs to me, so they will have to behave or leave; and I fancy they will choose the former part. Now come with me to your aunt and cousins, and see how cleverly I shall pay them out for their meanness. Don't tremble so, my timid little love."
And taking her hand, he led her back to the house, to a long, vine-wreathed veranda, where the three ladies were sitting together.
Mrs. Ellsworth had just told them of Love's betrothal to Dainty, and they frowned when the happy lovers came among them hand in hand.