tening on toward her
mother's room, when she met her Aunt Henrietta hurrying toward her, and
speaking impetuously.

"Oh, my little Lapwing! where have you been? I have been looking for you
all over the house! Good news, dear Lapwing! Good news! Deliverance is
at hand for you! Who do you think has come?"

"Who? Who?" questioned Sans Souci, eagerly.

"Cloudy!"

"Lost! lost!" cried the wretched girl; and, with a wild shriek that rang
through all the house, she threw up her arms and fell forward to the
ground.

The marriage was appointed to take place Christmas Day. Jacquelina
suffered her mother to dress her in bridal array. Dr. Grimshaw was
waiting for her in the hall.

As soon as she reached the foot of the stairs, he took her hand; and,
pressing it, whispered:

"Sweet girl, forgive me this persistence!"

"May God never forgive me if I do!" she fiercely exclaimed, transfixing
him with a flashing glance.

Never lover uttered a deeper sigh than that which Dr. Grimshaw gave
forth as he led his unwilling bride to the carriage. The groomsman
followed with the bridesmaid. The commodore and Mary L'Oiseau
accompanied the party in a gig. Henrietta, true to her word, refused to
be present at the marriage.

When the wedding party arrived at the chapel, all the pews were filled
to suffocation with the crowd that the rumor of the approaching marriage
had drawn together. And the bridal party were the cynosure of many
hundred eyes as they passed up the aisle and stood before the altar.

The ceremony proceeded. But not one response, either verbally or
mentally, did Jacquelina make. The priest passed over her silence,
naturally ascribing it to bashfulness, and honestly taking her consent
for granted.

The rites were finished, the benediction bestowed, and friends and
acquaintances left their pews, and crowded around with congratulations.

Among the foremost was Thurston Willcoxen, whose suave and stately
courtesy, and graceful bearing, and gracious words, so pleased Commodore
Waugh that, knowing Jacquelina to be married and safe, he invited and
urged the accomplished young "Parisian," as he was often called, to
return and partake of the Christmas wedding breakfast.

"Nace, do you take your bride home in the gig, as you will want her
company to yourself, and we will go in the carriage," said the
commodore, good-naturedly. In fact, the old man had not been in such
a fine humor for many a day.

Dr. Grimshaw, "nothing lo