stasy, such as made everybody laugh
while he listened, and chased away the possibility of sorrow, and
thrilled the very atmosphere with an impression of hilarity and triumph.

All Orton is a-stir. Mr Kennedy is the squire of the parish, and the
villagers may well love him as they do. The son and daughter of the
squire are not often married on the same day; and besides the double
wedding with its promise of an evening banquet, and dance on the hall
lawn to all the people of Orton, Eva and Edward are known well to every
cottager, and loved as well as known.

The hall is quite full, and the village inn is quite full, and all the
neighbouring gentry who are invited, are hospitably entertaining such
members of the two families as can find room nowhere else. Never had
Orton seen such grand doings; the very stables and coach-houses are
insufficient to receive the multitude of carriages.

Several Saint Wernerians are invited; and, (as both Julian and Kennedy
prefer to be alone on that morning), Lillyston, who has visited the
place before, is lionising them in the neighbourhood, and with Willie,
Kennedy's orphan cousin, rows them over to the little islet in the bay.
As they come back, the hour for the wedding approaches, and Lillyston
says to Owen--"How I wish De Vayne were here!"

"But he is in Florence, is he not?" says Owen.

They have hardly spoken when a carriage with a coronet on the panels
dashes up to the Lion Inn; a young man alights, hands out a lady, and
enters the inn.

"Surely that must be De Vayne himself," says Suton running forward.
Meanwhile the young man, after taking the lady into a private room, asks
if he may see Mr Home or Mr Kennedy, and is showed up to the parlour
in which they are sitting.

"De Vayne!" they both exclaim in surprise.

"Yes, Julian!" he answered cheerily; "I only returned from Florence two
days ago, heard of your marriage from the Ildown people, and determined
to come with my mother a self-invited guest."

"Don't fear for my feelings," he continued, turning to Kennedy.
"Nothing is so useless or dangerous as to nurse a hopeless love, like
the flame burning in the hearts of the banqueters, at the feast of
Eblis. No, Kennedy, I love Violet, but only as a sister now, and you
must not be afraid if I claim one kiss after the marriage from the
bride. You shall have the same privilege some day soon."

"Your coming is the completion of my happiness," said Kennedy, cordially
shaking