d
much of my time alone in that great echoing house?"

"No," was his quick response, "you shall spend no time there alone. When
I go out you shall go too, and if business takes me where you cannot
accompany me I will give you money to shop with, which will keep you
pleasantly occupied till I can rejoin you. Oh, we will make it a happy
honeymoon, in spite of all obstacles, my darling. I should be a wretch
if I did not make it happy for _you_."

Here was my opportunity. I trembled as I thought of it, and stammered
quite like a foolish child as I softly suggested:

"For me? Is it not likely to be a happy one for _you?_"

I will not give his answer; it was a passionate one, but it was not
convincing. Pondering it and trying to persuade myself he alluded only
to business cares and anxieties, I let the minute slip by and entered
the house with doubts unsolved, but with no further effort to understand
him. Remember, he was thirty-five and I but a chit of eighteen.

In the hall stood the old serving-man with whose appearance I was
already so familiar. He had a smile on his face, which formed my only
welcome. He also had a napkin over his arm.

"Luncheon is served," he announced, with great formality; and then I saw
through an open door the glitter of china and glass, and realized I was
about to take my first meal with my husband.

Mr. Allison had already told me that he intended to make no changes in
his domestic arrangements for the few days we were likely to occupy this
house. I had therefore expected that our meals would be served from the
restaurant, and that Ambrose (the waiting-man) would continue to be the
only other occupant of the house. But I was not sure whether the table
would be still set for four, or whether he would waive this old custom
now that he had a wife to keep him company at the once lonely board. I
was eager to know, and as soon as I could lay aside my hat in the little
reception-room, I turned my face towards the dining-room door, where my
husband stood awaiting me with a bunch of great white roses in his hand.

"Sweets to the sweet," said he, with a smile that sunk down deep into
my heart and made my eyes moisten with joy. In the hackneyed expression
there rang nothing false. He was proud and he was glad to see me enter
that dining-room as his wife.

The next moment I was before the board, which had been made as beautiful
as possible with flowers and the finest of dinner services. But the
tab