ter all the commotion, the wedding was a very quiet one.

Adele left the house early one bright summer morning.

The sun was rising, illuminating the sky with all its various
colours; the lark was soaring towards heaven's gates; the mowers
could already be heard sharpening their scythes in the hay fields,
and Mary and Louisa, the tenant's daughters, were busily engaged
milking their father's cows.

A carriage, drawn by two grey horses, carried the heiress of "Les
Marches" to be married to Frank Mathers.

The beautifying properties of love shone on the bride's and
bridegroom's countenances as they stepped out of the church of St.
----.

In both their souls was a paradise.

From time to time, Mrs. Mathers assumed a thoughtful expression.

"I cannot help thinking of my father," she said, as the
carriage-wheels rattled over the road near "Les Gravees."

"Let not this mar your happiness," he answered joyfully, "perhaps he
will relent when he sees that it is of no use grumbling."

Adele smiled, for, in spite of everything, she would be happy. "I
_am_ joyful," she said, "but as for his pardoning me, well--you do
not know him as well as I do."

The next day while Mr. and Mrs. Mathers were enjoying a snug little
_tete-a-tete_, the postman brought them a letter. It was from Mr.
Rougeant.

"I told you he would be glad to renew his acquaintance," said Frank,
as soon as he saw the signature.

"What's this?" he said. "A cheque, Adele; a cheque for one hundred
pounds! It's our wedding present, I suppose; let me read the
letter:"

"To my Daughter,--I have heard that you have been married. You
think that I will bend. You are mistaken. Moreover, as I warned
you before you took that rash step that I would take care you
would not inherit a single penny of mine; I send you this
cheque. It is the last money which you will ever receive from
me.

"ALFRED ROUGEANT."

Frank's face was a blank. "Fancy to come and tell you that you took
a rash step," he said.

"Did not I tell you that he was stubborn?" said his wife.

"He says that he will not bend," continued Frank, perusing the
letter for a second time. "My father-in-law, you will probably
break, then. Those one hundred pounds are welcome all the same."

"I was thinking of sending them back," said Mrs. Mathers, "but,
perhaps, we had better keep them; father would only be too glad to
have them back. I cannot conceive how he mustered suff