that made us all laugh, and the first thing that came into my head was
that verse, 'And a little child shall lead them.'"

"Dear me, Sally, does any thing happen that doesn't put you in mind of
some verse in the Bible?" laughed Hetty.

"Not many things, Hetty," replied Sally. "Those years that I was alone
all the time, I used to read it so much that it's always coming into my
head now, whatever happens."

After the last guest had gone, Doctor Eben and Hetty stood alone before
the blazing fire. Hetty was beautiful on this night: no white lace, no
orange blossoms, to make the ill-natured sneer at the middle-aged bride
attired like a girl; no useless finery to be laid away in chests and
cherished as sentimental mementos of an occasion. A substantial heavy
silk of a useful shade of useful gray was Hetty Gunn's wedding gown; and
she wore on her breast and in her hair white roses, "which will do for
my summer bonnets for years," Hetty had said, when she bought them.

But her cheeks were pink, her eyes bright, and her brown curls lovelier
than ever. Dr. Eben might well be pardoned the pride and delight with
which he drew her to his side and exclaimed, "Oh, Hetty! are you really
mine? How beautiful you look!"

"Do you think so?" said Hetty, taking a survey of herself in the
old-fashioned glass slanted at a steep angle above the mantel-piece. "I
don't. I hate fine gowns and flowers on me. If I'd have dared to, I'd
have been married in my old purple."

"I shouldn't have cared," replied her husband. "But it is better as it
is. Welbury people would have never left off talking, if you had done
that."

They were a beautiful sight, the two, as they stood with their arms
around each other, in the fire-light. Dr. Eben was tall and of a
commanding figure; his head was almost too massive for even his broad
shoulders; his black hair was wellnigh shaggy in its thickness; and his
dark gray eyes looked out from under eyebrows which were like projecting
eaves, and threw shadows on his cheeks below. Hetty's fair, rosy face,
and golden-brown curls, were thrown out into relief by all this dark
coloring so near, as a sunbeam is when it plays on a dark cloud. The
rooms were full of the delicate fragrance of apple blossoms. The
corners were filled with them; the walls were waving with them. Sally
had begged permission to have, for once, all the apple blossoms she
desired; and, despite groans and grumblings from Mike, she had rifled
the orcha