en each other, and you would have gone your separate ways to the end
of time without even knowing that the other existed. No doubt you both
contend that you cannot live without each other. It is the usual wail of
lovers. But are you quite as certain in your minds that you would have
perished if you had never seen each other?"

The note of irony did not escape him. He smiled. "In that case, Mrs.
Spofford, we should not have existed at all."

She shook her head despairingly. "You are too clever for me," she said.
"I warn you, however, that I shall do everything in my power to persuade
Ruth to reconsider her promise to you."

"Nothing could be fairer than that," said he, without rancor. "If she
comes to me this afternoon and says she has changed her mind and cannot
marry me, I shall not ask her again. Will you be kind enough, Mrs.
Spofford, to include that in your argument? It may spare her a lot of
worry and anxiety."

He bowed ceremoniously and took his departure. She went to the window
and, drawing aside the curtain, watched him until he disappeared down
the road. Then, as the curtain fell into place, she said to herself:

"Their children will be strong and beautiful."

CHAPTER XIV.

A fortnight later, Ruth and Percival were married. He was now governor
of Trigger Island.

The ceremony took place at noon on the Green in front of the Government
Building,--(an imposing name added to the already extensive list by
which the "meeting-house" was known),--and was attended by the whole
population of the island. His desire for a simple wedding had been
vigorously, almost violently opposed by the people. Led by Randolph
Fitts and the eloquent Malone, they demanded the pomp and ceremony of a
state wedding. As governor of Trigger Island, they clamoured, it was his
duty to be married in the presence of a multitude! A general holiday was
declared, a great "barbecue" was arranged--(minus the roasted ox),--and
when it was all over, the joyous throng escorted the governor and his
lady to the gaily decorated "barge" that was to transport them from the
landing to the Doraine.

Olga Obosky made the bride's bonnet and veil, and draped the latter on
the morning of the wedding day. Like the fabled merchants of the Arabian
Nights she appeared to the bride-elect and displayed her wares. From the
depths of her theatre trunks she produced a bewildering assortment of
laces, chiffon, silks, and the filmiest of gauzes.

"You