gret, perhaps?"

"Well, not quite a regret. I am an old-fashioned person, and I can't
change my manners all at once. You know what it was that I used to
hope."

"Oh yes. But Florence was very stupid, and would have a different
opinion."

"Of course I am happy now. Her happiness is all the world to me. And
things have undergone a change."

"That's true. Mr. Prosper has made over the marrying business to me, and
I mean to go through it like a man. Only you must call me Harry." This
she promised to do, and did, in the seclusion of her room, give him a
kiss. But still her joy was not loud, and the hilarity of her guests was
moderated. Mr. Armstrong did his best, and the bride's maid's dresses
were pretty,--which is all that is required of a bride's maid. Then at
last the father's carriage came, and they were carried away to
Gloucester, where they were committed to the untender, commonplace, but
much more comfortable mercies of the railway-carriage. There we will
part with them, and encounter them again but for a few moments as, after
a long day's ramble, they made their way back to a solitary but
comfortable hotel among the Bernese Alps. Florence was on a pony, which
Harry had insisted on hiring for her, though Florence had declared
herself able to walk the whole way. It had been very hot, and she was
probably glad of the pony. They both had alpenstocks in their hands, and
on the pommel of her saddle hung the light jacket with which he had
started, and which had not been so light but that he had been glad to
ease himself of the weight. The guide was lagging behind, and they two
were close together. "Well, old girl!" he said, "and now what do you
think of it all?"

"I'm not so very much older than I was when you took me, pet."

"Oh, yes, you are. Half of your life has gone; you have settled down
into the cares and duties of married life, none of which had been so
much as thought of when I took you."

"Not thought of! They have been on my mind ever since that night at Mrs.
Armitage's."

"Only in a romantic and therefore untrue sort of manner. Since that time
you have always thought of me with a white choker and dress-boots."

"Don't flatter yourself; I never looked at your boots."

"You knew that they were the boots and the clothes of a man making love,
didn't you? I don't care personally very much about my own boots: I
never shall care about another pair; but I should care about them--any
thing that might give m