THE NIGHT BEFORE THE WEDDING.

Apparently the Ellsworth ghost became disgusted with the prosaic means
adapted to secure its identification.

From that horror-haunted night it ceased to invade Dainty's chamber with
its grewsome cough and ghoulish presence.

It was true that in some of her occasional solitary moments, in some
quiet twilight hour, she had been startled by the sound of that hateful
cough, coming from apparently nowhere; but she fled at once in terror
from the spot, and forebore to mention it to her lover, who was
radiantly happy, deeming that the malicious ghost was exorcised forever.

The beautiful summer days flew past on wings of joy, bringing the
fateful first of August that was to witness Dainty's bridal, as well as
the twenty-sixth birthday of the handsome master of Ellsworth.

Everything was in readiness for the wedding when the last day of July
brought Mrs. Chase to her daughter's arms again, and Dainty's happiness
seemed complete.

Everything seemed to be going on so propitiously that Dainty cast her
dismal forebodings to the winds.

Surely nothing could part her from her lover now! The malice of her
enemies had fallen harmless to the ground.

Mrs. Ellsworth and her two favorite nieces were playing propriety with
perfect ease. Indeed, the former had persuaded Olive and Ela to act as
bridemaids, and provided them with elegant gowns of sheer white organdie
over rich white silk. Mrs. Chase had brought with her Dainty's pretty,
simple traveling gown and hat, and she had yielded to her lover's wish
that the marriage vows should be spoken in the same beautiful white
robes that had graced his mother at her wedding, twenty-eight years
before.

They had been folded away in linen and lavender many years--the lace
veil and satin gown--and the owner would never need them more, for she
was wearing the robe of righteousness in the great procession of angels
before the Great White Throne. While Love was yet in his babyhood she
had passed gently away to heaven like a lily fading on its slender stem.

Love cherished her memory as something holy, and his heart ached with
silent grief when, five years later, his father gave him a step-mother,
a handsome, stately woman, who had been uniformly kind to him until now,
when her imperious nature overstepped the mark in her anxiety to have
him marry Olive or Ela.

But thwarted in her will, the lady was bearing her disappointment with
what appeared to be grac