I am so sorry to
disappoint you, but the buggy _won't_ hold three. If you are good you
shall be the first to congratulate me when I come home to-night." And,
almost before I knew it, the two had taken their seats in the buggy that
was waiting at the door. "Good-by," cried Mary, waving her hand from the
back; "wish me much joy--of my ride."

I tried to do so, but the words wouldn't come. I could only wave my hand
in response, and rush sobbing into the house.

Of that day, and its long hours of alternate remorse and anxiety, I
cannot trust myself to speak. Let me come at once to the time when,
seated alone in my lamp-lighted room, I waited and watched for the token
of their return which Mary had promised me. It came in the shape of Mary
herself, who, wrapped in her long cloak, and with her beautiful face
aglow with blushes, came stealing into the house just as I was beginning
to despair.

A strain of wild music from the hotel porch, where they were having a
dance, entered with her, producing such a weird effect upon my fancy
that I was not at all surprised when, in flinging off her cloak, she
displayed garments of bridal white and a head crowned with snowy roses.

"Oh, Mary!" I cried, bursting into tears; "you are then----"

"Mrs. Henry Clavering, at your service. I'm a bride, Auntie."

"Without a bridal," I murmured, taking her passionately into my embrace.

She was not insensible to my emotion. Nestling close to me, she gave
herself up for one wild moment to a genuine burst of tears, saying
between her sobs all manner of tender things; telling me how she loved
me, and how I was the only one in all the world to whom she dared come
on this, her wedding night, for comfort or congratulation, and of how
frightened she felt now it was all over, as if with her name she had
parted with something of inestimable value.

"And does not the thought of having made some one the proudest of men
solace you?" I asked, more than dismayed at this failure of mine to make
these lovers happy.

"I don't know," she sobbed. "What satisfaction can it be for him to
feel himself tied for life to a girl who, sooner than lose a prospective
fortune, subjected him to such a parting?"

"Tell me about it," said I.

But she was not in the mood at that moment. The excitement of the day
had been too much for her. A thousand fears seemed to beset her mind.
Crouching down on the stool at my feet, she sat with her hands folded
and a glare on her f