an' I will return in a week, after I have
completed my arrangements in the city.' I knew he meant it to be a
secret ceremony at my tavern, fer the sisters would niver permit it at
home. I worried all day long, wonderin' what was my duty in the
matter, one moment ready to go over an' tell the family o' their plans,
an' nixt feelin' guilty at my disloyalty to the brave girl. The
preacher came, an' they were married that night."

"They were married that night?" interrogated Mr. Hyden, who had been
following Nancy's story intently.

"They were, surely," declared Nancy, positively, as if resenting the
interruption.

"Thank God!" he muttered, as he resumed the smoking of his pipe.

Nancy gazed at him queerly for a few moments, and then continued:
"Green left for the city nixt mornin', an' Florence went back to her
home with my kiss on her lips as a weddin' gift. A month passed, an' I
was wonderin' why Florence had not been over to see me, an' then Silas
Raeburn came into my tavern in a mighty rage. 'Ye old witch, where's
my girl?' he roared.

"I was so surprised at his words that I didn't know what to say, but I
knew my face was a guilty one to him.

"'Ye have encouraged her in her disobedience against her own family,
and then ye let a drunken rascal steal her from me to crown our
disgrace,' he went on fiercely. Fer once in my life I stood silent,
too ashamed to answer him, while he heaped words upon me that would be
unfit to repeat in decent company. He was fair torn with anguish and
temper, an' I let him have his say. Then, when he was calmer, I told
him all I knew, from the first meetin' o' Florence with the bridge
foreman. He listened, breathing sort o' sharp, as if my words hurt
him, an' then of a sudden he went white an' tremblin', an' dashed out
into the darkness o' the night.

"I hoped that Florence had met her husband in the city, an' that they
were happy, an' I comforted myself with these reflections, but always
had to fight a doubtin'. The people talked o' it fer a long while, but
it was a forbidden subject in my house, an' one man went out o' my bar
with more speed than dignity, for mentionin' her name in my hearin'.

"One bitterly cold night in December, a farmer came in from the road
with strange news. 'I found a woman an' child freezin' by the
roadside, an' I just brought them on to ye,' he said. 'Bring them in
an' welcome,' I answered, an' then the woman slipped by him an' was
sobbin' in