rgaret's was
hidden, another, and they were in a wood of beech and maple. The heat of
the day was broken, and a wind was blowing. Rand took Jacqueline's
hands, unclasped and chafed them. "So cold!" he said. "Why could we not
have heard this news to-morrow!"

She shuddered strongly. "The noble--the great--" her voice broke.

"Is it so you think of him?" he asked. "Well--I, too, will call him
noble and great--to-day.

"No more for him the warmth of the bright sun;
Nor blows upon his brow the wind of night!

"He's gone--and we all shall go. But this is our wedding day. Let us
forget--let us forget all else but that!"

"I grieve for the country," she said.

He kissed her hand. "Poor country! But her Sons die every day. She is
like Nature--she takes no heed. Let us, too, forget!"

"Oh, his poor wife--"

Rand drew her to him. "Will you mourn for me when I am dead?"

"No," she answered. "We will die together.--Oh, Lewis, Lewis, Lewis!"

"You promised that you would be happy," he said, and kissed her. "You
promised you would not let Fontenoy and the things of Fontenoy stand
like a spectre between us. Forget this, too. Everywhere there is dying.
But it is our wedding day--and I love you madly--and life and the
kingdoms of life lie before us! If you are not happy, how can I be so?"

"But I am!" she cried, and showed him a glowing face. "I am happier than
the happiest!"

The wood thinned into glades where the shadows of beech and maple were
beginning to be long upon the grass; then, in the afternoon light, the
coach entered open country, fields of ox-eyed daisies, and tall pine
trees standing singly.

"I never came this far," said Jacqueline. "I never saw the house."

"It is there where the smoke rises beyond that tobacco-field," answered
Rand. "All the tobacco shall be changed into wheat."

They came in sight of the house,--a long storey-and-a-half structure of
logs, with two small porches and a great earthen chimney. Pine trees
gave a scanty shade. House and outbuildings and fencing had all been
freshly whitewashed; over the porches flourished morning-glory and
Madeira vines, and the little yard was bright with hollyhock and
larkspur. Jacqueline put her hand in her husband's. Rand bent and kissed
it with something in touch and manner formal and chivalrous. "It is a
poor house for you. Very soon I shall build you a better."

"I want no better," she answered. "Have you not lived here all these
years?"