The two boys waited and watched for an opportunity to get up into the servants’ hall again, but such a close vigil did Cora keep that they were unable to do so.
At last the wedding day arrived when Cora and Frank, and Mrs. Dalrymple and her divorced husband, were to be made one.
On the morning of this day the two brides were very busy, each in her own apartments were being robed by their respective maids for the noon ceremony—Cora in a handsome traveling gown and hat to go away immediately, and her aunt in a dainty confection of blue brocade and rich lace for an informal luncheon with the few wedding guests.
Love and hope beat high in the breasts of both—the girl who had played such high stakes to gain a man’s heart, the woman who had never known the value of love till it was lost and found again.
The drawing-room and corridors were gracefully but not too lavishly decorated for the ceremony with stately palms and rich roses, whose fragrance filled the air with sweetness.
Little Mark and Willie were not watched so closely, and roved hither and thither about the great house, whispering to each other, and, truth to tell, feeling almost too grand in the fine suits of velvet with rich lace collars that had been put upon them to grace the occasion. Being left somewhat to their own devices in the prevailing excitement, they naturally turned at once to the locked room on the upper floor.
“We must do it now or never, because she is going off with that Mr. Laurier as soon as she is married, to stay a long while,” said Mark.
“Yes, we must. Let’s go now.” And they stole unseen upstairs and Mark soon found the key beneath the rug. But it was so large, and the lock so strong that when they got it in they could not turn it.
“Put your ear to the keyhole and listen. Don’t you hear something?” said Mark.
“Yes—sounds like a little kitty cryin’; pore li’l sing!” whimpered Willie.