For was not Arabella going to
marry a rich man, and the doctor's bosom friend, at that? To be sure,
she could not help wishing he wouldn't spend so much of his time with
that queer old John McIntyre, but there was no denying his wealth, and
the way he did spend money was a caution. On the whole, he was quite a
wonderful match for Arabella, much better than he had been ten years
ago, and almost all Mrs. Winters could have wished for Bella herself.
So the wedding must be in keeping with his position, and the
preparations for it were put forward on a grand scale.

And through all the bustle and activity Miss Arabella moved in a happy
daze, conscious of one thing only, that Martin had come back, and,
under the love and appreciation, growing more beautiful every day. The
rose tints crept into her cheeks, and her eyes shone like the blue of
the June skies. Elsie Cameron took advantage of Susan's relaxation,
and puffed out the little bride-elect's pretty hair, and decked her
with ribbons and lace, until Martin declared she wasn't a day older
than when he went away, and twice as pretty.

Quite irrespective of his wealth, Martin, himself, took the village by
storm. The orphans adopted him as their very own, and moved over in a
body to the doctor's house whenever he was staying there. The men in
the mill stopped work the moment he appeared, and all the women in the
place, from Susan Winters down, fell in love with him. Every eye
watched him admiringly as he moved about, here and there, during those
two weeks. Folks said you could hardly tell whether he thought most of
Arabella or the doctor or old John McIntyre. Certainly he spent much
of his time with the dark watchman, and it was beautiful to see the
light his presence brought to John McIntyre's deep eyes. But he did
not by any means neglect Arabella. Two or three times a day he would
come rollicking up from the doctor's house, loudly chanting the praises
of the "brave Canajen byes" who had met a watery grave; would swing
open Miss Arabella's little gate with a force that nearly wrenched it
from its hinges, and after teasing Polly into saying all the naughty
things her mistress had hoped she had forgotten, he would bid little
Annie Laurie put on the faded lilac gown he admired so much, and they
would go off for a stroll through the village, the admiration of every
one in the place. They always walked down along the green-and-gold
floor of Treasure Valley, because