owing her head
back, she looked at him with all her heart in her eyes. "No, it does
NOT signify. Were your father the king on his throne, or the beggar in
the streets, it would be all the same to me; you would still be
yourself--MY husband--MY John Halifax."

"God bless thee--my own wife that He has given me!" John murmured,
through his close embrace.

They had altogether forgotten any one's presence, dear souls! so I kept
them in that happy oblivion by slipping out to Jenny in the kitchen,
and planning with her how we could at least spare Jem Watkins two days
a week to help in the garden, under Mr. Halifax's orders.

"Only, Jenny," smiled I, with a warning finger, "no idling and
chattering. Young folk must work hard if they want to come to the
happy ending of your master and mistress."

The little maid grew the colour of her swain's pet peonies, and
promised obedience. Conscientious Jem there was no fear of--all the
rosy-cheeked damsels in Christendom would not have turned him aside
from one iota of his duty to Mr. Halifax. Thus there was love in the
parlour and love in the kitchen. But, I verily believe, the young
married couple were served all the better for their kindness and
sympathy to the humble pair of sweethearts in the rank below them.

John walked home with me--a pleasure I had hardly expected, but which
was insisted upon both by him and Ursula. For from the very first of
her betrothal there had been a thorough brother-and-sisterly bond
established between her and me. Her womanly, generous nature would
have scorned to do what, as I have heard, many young wives do--seek to
make coldness between her husband and his old friends. No; secure in
her riches, in her rightful possession of his whole heart, she took
into hers everything that belonged to John, every one he cared for; to
be for ever held sacred and beloved, being his, and therefore her own.
Thus we were the very best of friends, my sister Ursula and me.

John and I talked a little about her--of her rosy looks, which he hoped
would not fade in their town dwelling--and of good Mrs. Tod's wonderful
delight at seeing her, when last week they had stayed two days in the
dear old cottage at Enderley. But he seemed slow to speak about his
wife, or to dilate on a joy so new that it was hardly to be breathed
on, lest it might melt into air.

Only when, as we were crossing the street, a fine equipage passed, he
looked after it with a smile.

"Gr