honor to him. Oh, mamma," she
continued after a pause, "if he is offended to-day it will pierce my
heart like a knife--dear mamma--"

The big tears trembled on her lashes.

Once more she asked, "Will you, mamma?"

Mrs. Baumhagen was just ready. She stretched out both her little hands,
looked at them inside and out, and said without looking up:

"Kind?--of course--like him? One cannot force one's self to do that, my
child. I hardly know him."

"For my sake," Gertrude would have said, but she bethought herself. The
days of her childhood had passed, and since then--?

Mrs. Baumhagen rose.

"It is almost five," she remarked. "Go back to your room. Linden will
be here in a moment."

She kissed Gertrude on the forehead, then quickly on the lips.

"Go, my child,--you know I don't like to be upset--God grant you all
happiness." Gertrude went back to her room, chilled to the heart. A
tall figure stepped hastily out of the window recess, and a strong arm
was around her.

"It is you!" she said, drawing a long breath, while a rosy flush
overspread her face.

* * * * *

The little wedding-party were assembled in the salon, the mother,
Arthur, Jenny, Aunt Pauline and Uncle Henry. Two young cousins in white
tulle made the only points of light amid the gloomy black.

"For Heaven's sake don't wear such long faces!" cried Uncle Henry, who
looked as if the wedding had upset him as much as the funeral. "It is
dismal enough as it is:--"

The door opened and the old clergyman entered. Uncle Henry went to meet
him, greeted him loudly, and then disappeared with unusual haste to
bring in the bride and bridegroom.

The afternoon sunshine flooded the rich salon, overpowering the light
of the candles in the chandelier and the candelabra, and its rays
rested on the young couple before the altar.

The voice of the clergyman, sounded mild and clear. They had met for
the first time in the house of God, he said; evidently the Lord had
brought them together, and what the Lord had joined together no man
should put asunder. He spoke of love which beareth all things, hopeth
all things, endureth all things. Gertrude had chosen the text herself.

Then they exchanged rings. They knelt for the blessing, and they rose
husband and wife.

Then they went up to their mother. Like Gertrude, Frank Linden saw all
things in a different light in this hour. He held out his hand, and
though he could find no words