ndyke before you eat your dinner.
And I'll order a few things here--a hat, for instance, a sacque, and a
few dresses and gloves. I'll be back in an hour or two at the longest.
You won't be lonely, my darling, while I'm gone?"

She had answered him "no," and with a very affectionate embrace, he had
left her. But in his absence she did grow lonely, did grow saddened and
remorseful. What must they think of her at home? They had discovered her
flight by this time--all was consternation and terror. They would wonder
what had happened--why she had gone, whither, and if alone. Aunt Hetty
she could see weeping and refusing to be comforted; her uncles shocked,
speechless, terrified; Mr. Gilbert pale, stern, and perhaps guessing the
truth. He had loved her, very truly and dearly, and Thursday next was to
have been his wedding day. Oh! what a cruel, wicked, heartless,
ungrateful wretch she must be now in his sight! How he would scorn and
despise her--how they all would! Would they ever forgive her for this
shameful flight--this cold-blooded treachery? One day she might,
perhaps, come face to face with Mr. Gilbert, in the busy whirl of New
York life, and how would she ever dare to meet his angry, scornful eye?
As Laurence's wife, the deepest bliss life could give would be hers, but
through all her life long, even in the midst of this bliss, the trail of
the serpent would be over all still, in her undying shame and remorse.
The ready tears of seventeen fell, until all at once Miss Bourdon
recollected that Laurence would be here presently with the clergyman,
and that it would never do to be married with red eyes and a swollen
nose. She sprang up, bathed her face, brushed out her long silky black
hair, and by the time she had made herself pretty and bright, Mr.
Thorndyke's light step came flying up the stairs, three at a bound, and
Mr. Thorndyke's impetuous tap was at the door.

"Come in," she said, her heart beginning to flutter, and the bridegroom
came in, handsome, smiling, eager, followed by a seedy-looking personage
in rusty black, and the professional "choker" of dingy white.

"Out of patience, Norine? But I could not come an instant sooner, and it
is only half-past eleven. My friend, the Reverend Jonas Maggs, Miss
Bourdon, soon to be transformed into Mrs. Laurence Thorndyke; and the
sooner the better. Here's the ring, Norry, bought haphazard--let's see
if it fits the dear little finger. So! as if you were born in it. Now
then