"I do not know," she sighed. "Then are you vexed with me about anything?"
"No, Edith," he said, "I have no reason to be vexed with any one but myself. Good-night, dear!"
She echoed the good-night, and went up-stairs, not nearly so happy as she had expected to be that night.
The next morning the marriage took place. For Hester's sake we will say that the bride was lovely, and the wedding a pretty one. But we will not further celebrate Major Cleaveland's anachronistic nuptials.
The Williamses were to leave town in the evening. They dined at the Yorkes', and went away immediately after dinner. Edith was to walk down to the hotel with him, and stay there till the stage-coach should come for him.
"And we will walk the very longest way, Dick," she said. "I have hardly had a chance to speak to you yet. We have plenty of time, for they have to go up after their valises."
While Edith ran up-stairs for her hat, Mr. Rowan took leave of the others, and Mrs. Yorke walked out into the portico with him. The lady seemed to find difficulty in uttering something which she wished to say. But when she heard her niece coming, she spoke hastily. "Mr. Rowan, Edith is but a child!"
His face blushed up. "I do not forget that, Mrs. Yorke," he said; "but also, I do not forget that she is a child I have many a time carried in my arms."
"A very headstrong young man!" thought Mrs. Yorke, as she watched the two go down the steps together.