when the little party, Marjorie and Stephen's sister, her
maid of honor, and Stephen and Sergeant Griffin, his best man, had
settled down into the coach, that Marjorie for the first time became
composed. A great sigh of relief escaped from her as she sat back, her
bouquet in her hand, and looked at the dispersing crowd. She could not
tell yet whether she was happy or not; the excitement had not subsided
enough to allow her to regain her self-possession and equanimity.
Stephen was by her side. That was about all she knew,--or cared.

Stephen was in his characteristically reticent mood. Already had he
observed that he would have endured another Valley Forge with greater
pleasure than the ordeal of a wedding ceremony. Still he was nicely
dressed for the occasion, wearing for the first time a new full dress
uniform of buff and blue. The interested spectator might have discerned,
too, that he wore for the first time a new insignia of rank; for he was
now a Major of the Continental Army, having received that promotion,
upon the recommendation of His Excellency, for distinguished service,
together with a warm message of congratulation upon his approaching
marriage. Nevertheless he was unmoved through it all, betraying but one
concern, and that was administration to the most trivial wants of his
blushing and timid bride.

It was the time of joy, of pure, unalloyed joy, yet he could not banish
altogether from his mind the memories of the past two years, years
crowded with events in his life and that of his beloved. There was,
indeed, much to be thankful for, and notwithstanding his exceedingly
great glee and the day of gladness which had dawned for him flooding his
heart with exultation and complacent satisfaction, still a prayer of
praise poured forth from his lips to the Giver of every best and perfect
gift.

The American Revolution had unfolded a wonderful story, a story of
anti-Catholicism, of persecution and prejudice which had resolved itself
step by step into a state of complete freedom of action and religious
liberty. The Church was at length free, free to gather her children into
congregations where she might speak to them and instruct them without
any fear. Now she was at liberty to fulfill her mission of winning souls
to Christ. True, her children were widely scattered, a bare twenty-five
thousand out of a population of about three millions, whose wants were
administered to by no more than twenty-five priests. Yet