place in the chapel. Every man,
woman, and child in the town, dressed as for a _fete_, was in the
chapel, and praying for "Tantibba," long before the hour for the
ceremony. When Eben and Hetty entered the door, the fragrance, the
waving flowers, the murmuring crowd, unnerved Hetty. She had not been
prepared for this.

"Oh, Eben!" she whispered, and, halting for a moment, clung tighter to
his arm. He turned a look of affectionate pride upon her, and,
pressing her hand, led her on. Father Antoine's face glowed with loving
satisfaction as he pronounced the words so solemn to him, so significant
to them. As for Marie, she could hardly keep quiet on her knees: her
silver necklace fairly rattled on her shoulders with her excitement.

"Ah, but she looks like an angel! may the saints keep her," she
muttered; "but what will comfort M'sieur Antoine for the loss of her,
when she is gone?"

After the ceremony was over, all the people walked with the bride and
bridegroom to the inn, where the diligence was waiting in which they
were to begin their journey; the same old vehicle in which Hetty had
come ten years before alone to St. Mary's, and Doctor Eben had come a
few weeks ago alone to St. Mary's, "not knowing the things which should
befall him there."

It was an incongruous old vehicle for a wedding journey; and the flowers
at the ancient horses' heads, and the knots of green at the cracked
windows, would have made one laugh who had no interest in the meaning of
the decorations. But it was the only four-wheeled vehicle in St. Mary's,
and to these simple villagers' way of thinking, there was nothing
unbecoming in Tantibba's going away in it with her husband.

"Farewell to thee! Farewell to thee! The saints keep thee, Bo Tantibba
and thy husband! and thy husband!" rose from scores of voices as the
diligence moved slowly away.

Dr. Macgowan, who had somewhat reluctantly persuaded himself to be
present at the wedding, and had walked stiffly in the merry procession
from the chapel to the inn, stood on the inn steps, and raised his hat
in a dignified manner for a second. Father Antoine stood bareheaded by
his side, waving a large white handkerchief, and trying to think only of
Hetty's happiness, not at all of his own and the village's loss. As the
shouts of the people continued to ring on the air, Dr. Macgowan turned
slowly to Father Antoine.

"Most extraordinary scene!" he said, "'pon my word, most extraordinary
scene; never c