In the Campo Santi Apostoli at Venice there stands, a little apart from the church of that name, a chapel which has been for many years the place of worship for the Lutheran congregation. It was in this church that Staniford and Lydia were married six weeks later, before the altar under Titian's beautiful picture of Christ breaking bread.
The wedding was private, but it was not quite a family affair. Miss Hibbard had come down with her mother from Dresden, to complete Dunham's cure, and she was there with him perfectly recovered; he was not quite content, of course, that the marriage should not take place in the English chapel, but he was largely consoled by the candles burning on the altar. The Aroostook had been delayed by repairs which were found necessary at Trieste, and Captain Jenness was able to come over and represent the ship at the wedding ceremony, and at the lunch which followed. He reserved till the moment of parting a supreme expression of good-will. When he had got a hand of Lydia's and one of Staniford's in each of his, with his wrists crossed, he said, “Now, I ain't one to tack round, and stand off and on a great deal, but what I want to say is just this: the Aroostook sails next week, and if you two are a mind to go back in her, the ship's yours, as I said to Miss Blood, here,—I mean Mis' Staniford; well, I hain't had much time to get used to it!—when she first come aboard there at Boston. I don't mean any pay; I want you to go back as my guests. You can use the cabin for your parlor; and I promise you I won't take any other passengers this time. I declare,” said Captain Jenness, lowering his voice, and now referring to Hicks for the first time since the day of his escapade, “I did feel dreadful about that fellow!”
“Oh, never mind,” replied Staniford. “If it hadn't been for Hicks perhaps I mightn't have been here.” He exchanged glances with his wife, that showed they had talked all that matter over.
The captain grew confidential. “Mr. Mason told me he saw you lending that chap money. I hope he didn't give you the slip?”
“No; it came to me here at Blumenthals' the other day.”
“Well, that's right! It all worked together for good, as you say. Now you come!”
“What do you say, my dear?” asked Staniford, on whom the poetic fitness of the captain's proposal had wrought.
Women are never blinded by romance, however much they like it in the abstract. “It's coming winter. Do you think you wouldn't be seasick?” returned the bride of an hour, with the practical wisdom of a matron.
Staniford laughed. “She's right, captain. I'm no sailor. I'll get home by the all-rail route as far as I can.”
Captain Jenness threw back his head, and laughed too. “Good! That's about it.” And he released their hands, so as to place one hairy paw on a shoulder of each. “You'll get along together, I guess.”