d,
but though they thanked him, they thanked him with a difference. He felt
it, and that more keenly than he might have felt a greater thing. Could
he not even give largesse like one to the manner born, or was it only
that all the air was hostile? He rode away. From the saddle he could
have seen the distant summer-house, but he forced himself not to look.
The lawn fell away behind him, and the trees hid the house. The gleam of
a white pillar kept with him for a while, but the driveway bent, and
that too was hidden. With Joab behind him on the iron grey, he passed
through the lower gate, and took the way that led to Mrs. Jane Selden's
on the Three-Notched Road.

CHAPTER XII

A MARRIAGE AT SAINT MARGARET'S

"Yes," said Unity. "That is just what the Argus says. 'On Thursday M.
Jerome Buonaparte, the younger brother of the First Consul, passed
through Annapolis with his bride--lately the lively and agreeable Miss
Elizabeth Patterson of Baltimore. M. Buonaparte's Secretary and
Physician followed in a chaise, and the valets and _femmes-de-chambre_
in a coach. The First Consul's brother wore--' I protest I don't care
what the First Consul's brother wore! The Argus is not gallant. If you
were the First Consul's brother--"

"The Argus should describe the bride's dress, not mine," said Fairfax
Cary. "How lovely you would look, in that gown you have on, in a
curricle drawn by grey horses! What is the stuff--roses and silver?"

"Heigho!" sighed Unity. "'Tis a bridesmaid's gown. I am out with men. I
shall never wear a bride's gown."

"Don't jest--"

"Jest! I never felt less like jesting! I laugh to keep from crying. Here
is the coach."

The great Fontenoy coach with the Churchill arms on the panel drew up
before the porch. It was drawn by four horses, and driven by old Philip
in a wig and nosegay. Mingo was behind, and Phyllis's Jim and a little
darky ran alongside to open the door and let down the steps. "All alone
in that!" exclaimed Cary. "I shall ride with you as far as the old road
to Greenwood. Don't say no! I'll hold your flowers."

Unity looked down upon the roses in her arms. "They should all be
white," she said. "I feel as though I were going to see them bury
Jacqueline." Her voice broke, but she bit her lip, forced back the
tears, and tried to laugh. "I'm not. I'm going to her wedding--and
people know their own business best--and she may be as happy as the day
is long! He is fascinating,--he is dreadfu