"Oh, he congratulated me. He reminded me you and I were first engaged at
his house."

"Did he tell you it is to be at Woodbine Villa?"

"What?"

"The wedding." And Grace blushed to the forehead at having to mention
it.

"No, indeed, he did not mention any such thing, or I should have shown
him how unadvisable--"

"You mistake me. It is I who wish to be married from my father's house
by good old Dr. Fynes. He married my parents, and he christened me, and
now he shall marry me."

"I approve that, of course, since you wish it; but, my own dearest
Grace, Woodbine Villa is associated with so many painful memories--let
me advise, let me earnestly entreat you, not to select it as the place
to be married from. Dr. Fynes can be invited here."

"I have set my heart on it," said Grace. "Pray do not thwart me in it."

"I should be very sorry to thwart you in any thing. But, before you
finally decide, pray let me try and convince your better judgment."

"I HAVE decided; and I have written to Dr. Fynes, and to the few persons
I mean to invite. They can't all come here; and I have asked Mr. Raby;
and it is my own desire; and it is one of those things the lady and her
family always decide. I have no wish to be married at all. I only marry
to please my father and you. There, let us say no more about it, please.
I will not be married at Woodbine Villa, nor anywhere else. I wish papa
and you would show your love by burying me instead."

These words, and the wild panting way they were uttered in, brought
Coventry to his knees in a moment. He promised her, with abject
submission, that she should have her own way in this and every thing.
He petted her, and soothed her, and she forgave him, but so little
graciously, that he saw she would fly out in a moment again, if the
least attempt were made to shake her resolution.

Grace talked the matter over with Mr. Carden, and that same evening he
begged Coventry to leave the Villa as soon as he conveniently could, for
he and his daughter must be there a week before the wedding, and invite
some relations, whom it was his interest to treat with respect.

"You will spare me a corner," said Coventry, in his most insinuating
tone. "Dear Woodbine! I could not bear to leave it."

"Oh, of course you can stay there till we actually come; but we can't
have the bride and bridegroom under one roof. Why, my dear fellow, you
know better than that."

There was no help for it. It sickened him w