The music ceased, and that for the sufficiently good reason that the pianist rose from her seat and flung her arms about the curate's neck. He said something, but what it was was lost in the ample expanses of Miss Vesey's breast.
"Madam," she cried, addressing Miss Macleod, "your nephew has promised to marry me! He has said that he will be happy."
Miss Macleod, who did not happen just then to be looking in the opposite direction, smiled grimly. Owing to the peculiarity of her physical configuration everything about her was grim--even her smile.
"I am glad to hear it," she observed.
The Rev. Alan struggled himself free from the lady's powerful embrace. His distress was tragic in its intensity.
"This--this is some extraordinary--"
"Happiness!" cried the lady, and again she clasped him in her arms. "Your happiness is mine! It has been my life-long dream to be married to a clergyman; is not my father one already?"
At that moment the father referred to entered the room.
"What's this?" he cried, as a father naturally would cry on seeing his daughter with a stranger in her arms.
The young lady, however, promptly relieved his mind.