thayth you were thuch good
company.'

Freda heard Colonel Vaughan sigh, and thought, as she said 'good-night,'
and hastened upstairs, that she ought to be thankful that the
imperturbable and dull Wilhelmina Nugent had been the choice of that
discontented and irritable colonel, instead of the quick-tempered,
independent Winifred Gwynne.

CHAPTER XLVII.

THE DAUGHTER-IN-LAW.

New Year's Day dawned under the influence of a bright sun, and a clear,
frosty atmosphere. The old year was dead and buried with all his griefs
and joys; his son and heir came forward smiling, to begin his career of
times and seasons, clouds and sunbeams.

With him, Owen and Gladys were to commence their united lives. An
auspicious morning ushered in this, their bridal day, and the year's
birthday. Nature had put on all her jewels in honour of the joint
festivities. Her very tears were turned into diamonds that sparkled on
her capacious breast, neck, and arms, more brilliantly than stomachers,
necklaces and bracelets of gems, on the courtiers of an Indian monarch.

Truly, as the fair and gentle Gladys drove through the roads and lanes
that led from the farm to the church, the hedge-rows sparkled with these
brilliants, and her very pathway was strewn with them. Attired in that
Quaker-like garb of dove-colour and white, her soft cheek tinged as from
the sun, her eyes cast down in modest shyness, and her heart beating
with quiet happiness, she seemed a fitting bride to wait upon that heir
of so many by-gone generations.

And assuredly a happier never drove to a church to meet her expectant
bridegroom, her hand clasped lovingly between the kindly palms of her
future mother, sitting by her side; and the affectionate glances of her
uncle and aunt cast upon her from the opposite seat. She felt as if it
were all a dream. She, the Irish beggar--the friendless--the
wanderer--the orphan!

And now so honoured! All whom she most cared for in the world, with the
exception of Rowland, were assembled in that village church to meet her.
There were Owen and his father--Miss Gwynne and Minette--Mr and Mrs
Jonathan Prothero.

Gentleness, gratitude and simple merit, were, for once rewarded, even in
this world.

The kind and worthy Uncle Jonathan--so soon to be _her_ uncle--married
her. Her own uncle gave her, with prayers and blessings, to him whom she
had loved so long and truly--her former mistress, now her fast friend,
and another mistress's