y own sister." And Madam Schuyler turned away half
satisfied. After all, was that what woman wanted? Would she have been
satisfied to have been cared for as a sister?

Then gravely, with his eyes half unseeing her, the father kissed his
daughter good-bye, David got into the coach, the door was slammed shut,
and the white horses arched their necks and stepped away, amid a shower of
rice and slippers.

CHAPTER VII

For some distance the way was lined with people they knew, servants and
negroes, standing about the driveway and outside the fence, people of the
village grouped along the sidewalk, everybody out upon their doorsteps to
watch the coach go by, and to all the face of the bride was a puzzle and a
surprise. They half expected to see another coach coming with the other
bride behind.

Marcia nodded brightly to those she knew, and threw flowers from the great
nosegay that had been put upon her lap by Harriet. She felt for a few
minutes like a girl in a fairy-tale riding in this fine coach in grand
attire. She stole a look at David. He certainly looked like a prince, but
gravity was already settling about his mouth. Would he always look so now,
she wondered, would he never laugh and joke again as he used to do? Could
she manage to make him happy sometimes for a little while and help him to
forget?

Down through the village they passed, in front of the store and
post-office where Marcia had bought her frock but three days before, and
they turned up the road she had come with Mary Ann. How long ago that
seemed! How light her heart was then, and how young! All life was before
her with its delightful possibilities. Now it seemed to have closed for
her and she was some one else. A great ache came upon her heart. For a
moment she longed to jump down and run away from the coach and David and
the new clothes that were not hers. Away from the new life that had been
planned for some one else which she must live now. She must always be a
woman, never a girl any more.

Out past Granny McVane's they drove, the old lady sitting upon her front
porch knitting endless stockings. She stared mildly, unrecognizingly at
Marcia and paused in her rocking to crane her neck after the coach.

The tall corn rustled and waved green arms to them as they passed, and the
cows looked up munching from the pasture in mild surprise at the turnout.
The little coach dog stepped aside from the road to give th