in chests and
cherished as sentimental mementos of an occasion. A substantial heavy
silk of a useful shade of useful gray was Hetty Gunn's wedding gown; and
she wore on her breast and in her hair white roses, "which will do for
my summer bonnets for years," Hetty had said, when she bought them.

But her cheeks were pink, her eyes bright, and her brown curls lovelier
than ever. Dr. Eben might well be pardoned the pride and delight with
which he drew her to his side and exclaimed, "Oh, Hetty! are you really
mine? How beautiful you look!"

"Do you think so?" said Hetty, taking a survey of herself in the
old-fashioned glass slanted at a steep angle above the mantel-piece. "I
don't. I hate fine gowns and flowers on me. If I'd have dared to, I'd
have been married in my old purple."

"I shouldn't have cared," replied her husband. "But it is better as it
is. Welbury people would have never left off talking, if you had done
that."

They were a beautiful sight, the two, as they stood with their arms
around each other, in the fire-light. Dr. Eben was tall and of a
commanding figure; his head was almost too massive for even his broad
shoulders; his black hair was wellnigh shaggy in its thickness; and his
dark gray eyes looked out from under eyebrows which were like projecting
eaves, and threw shadows on his cheeks below. Hetty's fair, rosy face,
and golden-brown curls, were thrown out into relief by all this dark
coloring so near, as a sunbeam is when it plays on a dark cloud. The
rooms were full of the delicate fragrance of apple blossoms. The corners
were filled with them; the walls were waving with them. Sally had begged
permission to have, for once, all the apple blossoms she desired; and,
despite groans and grumblings from Mike, she had rifled the orchards.

"Faith, an' a good tin bushel she's taken off the russets," Mike said to
Norah; "an' as for thim gillies yer was so fond of, there's none left to
spake of on any o' the trees. Now if she'd er tuk thim old blue pearmain
trees, I wouldn't have said a word. But, 'Oh no!' sez she, 'I must have
all pink uns;' an' it was jest the pink uns that was our best trees;
that's jest as much sinse as ye wimmin 's got."

"Wull, thin, an' I'm thinkin' yer wouldn't have grudged Miss Hetty
her own apples, if it was in barrls ye had 'em," replied the practical
Norah, "an' I don't see where 's the differ."

"Yer don't!" said Mike, angrily. "If it had ha plazed God to make a man
o' yer,