ting.

She was growing more beautiful every day, the infatuated young man
thought, over her books; and the sun of France shone on nothing half so
lovely as this tall, slender damsel, in her gray school uniform and
prim, black silk apron.

The summer went. Sir Everard was back and forth across the Channel,
like an insane human pendulum, and the work went bravely on! Kingsland
was being transformed--the landscape gardeners and the London
upholsterers had _carte blanche_, and it was the story of Aladdin's
Palace over again. Sir Everard rubbed his golden lamp, and, lo! mighty
genii rose up and worked wonders.

September came--the miracles ceased. Even money and men could do no
more. October came.

Sir Everard's year of probation was expired. The Reverend Cyrus Green
overcame heroically his horror of seasickness and steamers, and went to
Paris in person for his ward. As plain Miss Hunsden, without a
shilling to bless herself with, the Reverend Cyrus would not by any
means have thought this extreme step necessary; but for the future Lady
Kingsland to travel alone was not for an instant to be thought of. So
he went, and the first week of November he brought her home.

Miss Hunsden--taller, more stately, more beautiful than ever--was very
still and sad, this first anniversary of her father's death. Lady
Kingsland, when she and Mildred called--for they did, of course--was
rather impressed by the stately girl in mourning, whose fair, proud
face and calm, gray eyes met hers so unflinchingly. It was "Greek
meets Greek" here; neither would yield an inch.

The wedding was to take place early in December--Sir Everard would not
wait, and Harrie seemed to have no will left but his. Once she had
feebly uttered some remonstrances, but he had imperatively cut her
short.

So this young tyrant had everything his own way. The preparations were
hurried on with amazing haste; the day was named, the bride-maids and
guests bidden.

Miss Hunsden's young lady friends were few and far between, and Mildred
Kingsland and the rector's sister and twelve-year-old daughter were to
comprise the whole list.

The wedding-day dawned--a sullen, overcast, threatening December day.
A watery sun looked out of a lowering sky, and then retreated
altogether, and a leaden dullness overspread the whole firmament. An
icy wind curdled your blood and tweaked your nose, and feathery
snowflakes whirled drearily through the opaque gloom.

The chur