air and his
mother were there. "They know it," he announced, quite calmly; then
he took his fine wedding-hat from the table.

"Where are you going?" his mother demanded, quickly.

"To walk a little way." Burr turned to Parson Fair. "I beg you not
to feel that you must deal severely with your daughter for this," he
said, "for she does not deserve it. She was justified in asking what
she did, and in feeling distrust that I did not answer."

"If a wife's faith cannot survive her husband's silence, then is she
no true spouse, and 'twas the part of a man not to answer," said this
Parson Fair, who had all his life followed in most roads the lead of
his womankind, and not known it, so much state had he been allowed in
his captivity.

"She was justified," said Burr, "and I beg you, sir, not to visit any
displeasure upon her. I have not at any time been worthy of her,
although God knows had she not cast me off, and did not this last,
with what I remember now of her manner for the last few weeks, make
me sure that her heart is no longer mine, I would have lived my life
for her, as best I could; and will now, should she say the word."

With that, Burr Gordon thrust on his wedding-hat, and was out of the
study and out of the south door of the house.

Chapter XXV

In the yard was drawn up in state, behind the five white horses, the
grand old Gordon coach, which had not been used before since the
death of Lot's father. Lot had insisted upon furnishing the coach and
the horses for his cousin's wedding. The man who stood by the horses'
heads looked up at Burr in a dazed way when he came out of the house
and spoke to him.

"When my mother is ready you can take her home, Silas," said Burr.
"Then drive over to my cousin's, and put up the coach and the
horses."

The man gasped and looked at him. "Do you hear what I say?" said
Burr, shortly.

The man gave an affirmative grunt, and strove to speak, but Burr cut
him short. "Look out for that bad place in the road, before you get
to the bridge," he said, and went on out of the yard. The road was
suddenly full of departing wedding-guests, fluttering along with
shrill clatter of persistently individual notes, like a flock of
birds.

Burr, out of the yard, passed along through their midst with a hasty
yet dignified pace. He said to himself that he would not seem to be
running away. He looked neither to the right nor left, except to
avoid collisions with silken and muslin