"I think you should be married about Christmas week. Of course, Mark Rivers will marry you, and I shall ask the Bishop to assist, when I see him on our way home. Don't fail to write to both your uncles."
"It is certainly complete," said John. He left for Pittsburgh that night.
* * * * *
I have little to add to this long story. The days went by swiftly, and after a week all of the family, except John, were once more together at Grey Pine. Mark Rivers had also returned. He was too evidently in one of his moods of sombre silentness, but his congratulations were warm and as he sat at dinner he made unusual efforts to be at his agreeable best.
When they left the table, he said, "No, Colonel, I shall not smoke to-night. May I have a few minutes of your time, Mrs. Penhallow?"
"Certainly, Mark—I want to talk to you about the Bible Class—I mean to take it up again." She led the way into her own little library. "Sit down—there is so much to talk over. Of course, you will marry these dear children somewhere about Christmas time."
"No," he said, "I shall be far away."
"Away! Oh, Mark! surely you do not mean to leave us."
"Yes, I am going to live as a missionary among the Indians."
"You cannot—you really cannot—where could you be more useful than here?"