whispered, "Here's to the bride!" raised it to her eager lips
and drank.

* * * * *

Silence settled down upon the Elms. There was a harvest moon that night,
a glorious rounded moon more golden than silver. The garden slumbered,
wrapped in mellow light, even the shadows gleamed faintly luminous. The
breeze, roaming at will, shook drowsy perfume from the lingering
flowers, but for all it aped the summer it was unmistakably an autumn
breeze, melancholy, earth-scented. It stirred the curtains at Mary's
window; rustled through the great bowlful of crimson leaves upon
Esther's writing table and softly stirred the dark hair of the girl as
she sat with her face hidden in her curved arms. For a very long time
she sat there while the moon looked in and looked away again and who
can tell what her thoughts were, or if she thought at all.

By and by she rose and went to the window, looking out to where a month
ago she had stood by the garden gate under the stars. It was drenched
with moonlight now and the shadow under the elm tree was dark.

What was that? A darker shadow in the shadow? Esther's hand caught at
the curtain, her heart gave a great leap and then grew still. She knew
who stood there. This was the good-bye he could not speak. Tears fell
unheeded down the girl's pale cheeks. If during those last days she had
had any doubt of the love which loyalty to Mary had helped him hide so
well, they were all swept away now. A warm spot grew and glowed in her
heart and a line from that old immortal love lyric which she had learned
in her school days came back vivid with eternal truth.

"I had not loved thee, dear, so much
Loved I not honour more."

CHAPTER XXXV

It was a perfect day for the wedding. Autumn at her brightest and gayest
before her new bright robes began to brown. Soft air, mellow sun,
cool-lipped breeze, horizon veiled in tinted mist--a gem of a day, the
jewel of a season.

"Them as has, gets," murmured Mrs. Sykes, gloomily, as she tied on her
Sunday bonnet. She rather resented the kindness of nature upon this
present occasion. A nice rain would have suited her mood better.

Nevertheless, much as her mind misgave her in regard to the wedding, she
was early on her way to the Elms to see if she could help.

"They're sure to be flustrated," she told herself. "Aunt Amy's just as
likely as not to lose what little bit of head she has and hired help are
broken reeds