vid's face, and her own
courage gathered itself to brave it out in some way. The color flew to her
cheeks, and rose slowly in David's, through heavy veins that swelled in
his neck till he could feel their pulsation against his stock, but his
smooth shaven lips were white. He felt that a moment had come which he
could not bear to face.

Then with a hesitation that was but pardonable, and with a shy sweet look,
Marcia answered; and though her voice trembled just the least bit, her
true, dear eyes looked into the battalion of steel ones bravely.

"I would like you to call me Marcia, if you please."

"Marcia!" Miss Hortense snipped the word out as if with scissors of
surprise.

But there was a distinct relaxation about Miss Amelia's mouth. She heaved
a relieved sigh. Marcia was so much better than Kate, so much more
classical, so much more to be compared with Hannah, for instance.

"Well, I'm glad!" she allowed herself to remark. "David has been calling
you 'Kate' till it made me sick, such a frivolous name and no sense in it
either. Marcia sounds quite sensible. I suppose Katharine is your middle
name. Do you spell it with a K or a C?"

But the knocker sounded on the street door and Marcia was spared the
torture of a reply. She dared not look at David's face, for she knew there
must be pain and mortification mingling there, and she hoped that the
trying subject would not come up again for discussion.

The guests began to arrive. Old Mrs. Heath and her daughter-in-law and
grand-daughter came first.

Hannah's features were handsome and she knew exactly how to manage her
shapely hands with their long white fingers. The soft delicate
undersleeves fell away from arms white and well moulded, and she carried
her height gracefully. Her hair was elaborately stowed upon the top of her
head in many puffs, ending in little ringlets carelessly and coquettishly
straying over temple, or ears, or gracefully curved neck. She wore a frock
of green, and its color sent a pang through the bride's heart to realize
that perhaps it had been worn with an unkindly purpose. Nevertheless
Hannah Heath was beautiful and fascinated Marcia. She resolved to try to
think the best of her, and to make her a friend if possible. Why, after
all, should she be to blame for wanting David? Was he not a man to be
admired and desired? It was unwomanly, of course, that she had let it be
known, but perhaps her relatives were more to blame than herself. At leas