“But that’s for Thursday—day after to-morrow. Had you forgotten? What’s the matter, Rob?”
“I do believe I’m afraid. I got some letters to-day—and rather startling news. My uncle and cousin are dead—killed in a railway accident. It has put my wind up, I must admit. And when I think of what you have gone through even since I came to this place—that fire, and the night and day in the woods—without a scratch, I’m afraid our luck may change any minute now. Why not to-day instead of Thursday—and take no chances?”
“You afraid, Robert? No, it is only the shock of the bad news. We have nothing to fear. Were you very fond of your uncle and cousin?”
“But life’s a chancy thing. Yes, I liked them. They were good fellows—both old soldiers and all that sort of thing—and gone like that, like nothing! Why wait until the day after to-morrow, dear? Why drive my luck? We’ll catch the parson at home, and I have the license in my pocket.”
“Are you serious, dear?”
“Dead serious. I’m afraid to take a chance—for the first time in my life. I never realized before what a risky thing this is—this being happy. My cousin was to be married, you know. They were on their way to his wedding.”
The girl’s eyes filled with tears.
“Oh, I’m sorry!” she cried. And then, “All right, I’m ready,” she whispered.
They returned to the McPhees’ house three hours later, man and wife. They found the McPhees full of excitement.
“The deputy sheriff jist drove through here with old Luke Dangler,” said Tom McPhee to Vane. “The old lad bust out of jail; an’ the deputy caught him up on the Glen Road, layin’ for someone with a gun. He’s cracked. I reckon what done it was the sight of Amos stoppin’ Pete Sledge’s axe with his face that day. They won’t put him back into jail anyhow, the deputy says. It’s the lunatic asylum for him.”