him a clear view of Delia's face, while
he was removed from general observation. Almost from the commencement to
the ending of the ceremony his gaze rested on her countenance. His head
was thrown a little forward, his brows slightly contracted, his lips
firmly set, and his eyes fixed as if the object upon which he was gazing
held him by an irresistible fascination. I was so much interested in him
that I scarcely looked at the bride during the ceremony. At last, the
minister, in conclusion, announced the twain to be husband and wife.
I saw Wallingford give a slight start as if a tensely strung chord of
feeling had been jarred. A moment more and the spell was broken!
Every lineament of his countenance showed this. The stern aspect gave
way--light trembled over the softening features--the body stood more
erect as if a great pressure had been removed.

I noticed that he did not hold back in the excitement of congratulation
that followed the ceremony. I was near him when he took the hand of
Delia, and heard him say--not--"I congratulate you"--but "May your life
be a happy one." The tone was earnest and feeling, such as a brother
might use to a beloved sister. I held that tone long afterwards in my
memory, studying its signification. It had in it nothing of regret, or
pain, or sadness, as if he were losing something, but simply expressed
the regard and tender interest of a sincere well wisher. And so that
great trial was at an end for him. He had struggled manfully with a
great enemy to his peace, and this was his hour of triumph.

With the bride's state of mind, as read in external signs, I was far
from being satisfied. Marriage, in any case, to one who thinks and
feels, is a thing of serious import; and even the habitually thoughtless
can hardly take its solemn vows upon their lips without falling into a
sober mood. We are, therefore, not surprised to see emotion put on signs
of pain--like April showers that weep away into sunshine. But in Delia's
face I saw something that went deeper than all this.

"There is no one here," said I, taking her hand, and holding it tightly
in mine, "who wishes you well in the future more sincerely than I do."

"I know it, Doctor," she answered, returning the warm grasp I gave her.
Her eyes rested steadily in mine, and saw a shadow in them.

"We are sorry to lose you from S----. Indeed we cannot afford to lose
you."

"She is wanted," spoke up her young husband a little proudly, "to grace