Virgie, in her bridal robes, seemed the “fairest that e’er the sun shone on,” and no one looking into her dark eyes, so full of a calm, trustful joy, or noting the fond, proud smile upon her young husband’s face, could doubt that these were
“Two souls in sweet accord,
Each for each caring and each itself unheard;
True to truth, nor needing proof nor proving,
Sure to be ever loved and ever loving.”
There was a brilliant reception afterward in the grand old mansion of which Sir William was so justly proud, and the servants were heard to declare that a finer wedding had never occurred within the memory of the oldest among them.
As Virgie came down stairs, after exchanging her bridal dress for a traveling suit, Sir William met her in the hall and drew her into the library for a last few words. He put a package into her hands; and then, drawing her to his breast, he said, with great tenderness:
“My darling, this is your marriage dowry, to be used just as you choose, and I am sure of its being wisely used; but remember that you are to come freely to your father if at any time you particularly wish for anything. All that I have is yours. I live but for you and my other Virgie, and Heathdale is your inheritance.”
[THE END.]