"Good-by all of you," he said smiling, as he glanced back at the two girls a few moments later. "Take care of her, Ester, until I relieve you. It will not be long now."
"Take care," Ester answered gaily; "you have forgotten the 'slip' that there may be 'between the cup and the lip.'"
But he answered her with an almost solemn gravity: "I never forget that more worthy expression of the same idea, we know not what a day may bring forth; but I always remember with exceeding joy that God knows, and will lead us."
"He is graver than ten ministers," Ester said, as they turned from the window. "Come, Abbie, let us go up stairs."
It was two hours later when Abbie entered the sitting-room where Ester awaited her, and curled herself into a small heap of white muslin at Ester's feet.
"There!" said she, with a musical little laugh, "mother has sent me away. The measure of her disgust is complete now. Dr. Downing is in the sitting-room, and I have been guilty of going in to see him. Imagine such a fearful breach of etiquette taking place in the house of Ried! Do you know, I don't quite know what to do with myself. There is really nothing more to busy myself about, unless I eat the wedding cake."
"You don't act in the least like a young lady who is to be married to-morrow," was Ester's answer, as she regarded her cousin with a half amused, half puzzled air.
"Don't I?" said Abbie, trying to look alarmed. "What have I done now? I'm forever treading on bits of propriety, and crushing them. It will be a real relief to me when I am safely married, and can relapse into a common mortal again. Why, Ester, what have I been guilty of just now?"
"You are not a bit sentimental; are you, Abbie?" And at this gravely put question Abbie's laugh rang out again.
"Now don't, please, add that item to the list," she said merrily. "Ester, is it very important that one should be sentimental on such an occasion? I wish you were married, I really do, so that I might be told just how to conduct my self. How can you and mother be so unreasonable as to expect perfection when it is all new, and I really never practiced in my life?" Then a change, as sudden as it was sweet, flushed over Abbie's face. The merry look died out, and in its place a gentle, tender softness rested in the bright blue eyes, and her voice was low and quiet. "You think my mood a strange one, I fancy, dear Ester; almost unbecoming in its gayety. Perhaps it is, and yet I feel it bright and glad and happy. The change is a solemn one, but it seems to me that I have considered it long and well. I remember that my new home is to be very near my old one; that my brother will have a patient, faithful, life-long friend in Mr. Foster, and this makes me feel more hopeful for him—and, indeed, it seems to me that I feel like repeating, 'The lines have fallen unto me in pleasant places.' I do not, therefore, affect a gravity that I do not feel. I am gloriously happy to-night, and the strongest feeling in my heart is thankfulness. My Heavenly Father has brimmed my earthly cup, so that it seems to me there is not room in my heart for another throb of joy; and so you see—Ester, what on earth can be going on down stairs? Have you noticed the banging of doors, and the general confusion that reigns through the house? Positively if I wasn't afraid of shocking mother into a fainting fit I would start on a voyage of discovery."