th," led his fair bride to the gig, handed her
in, and took the place beside her.

"Now, then, fairest and dearest, you are at last, indeed, my own!" he
said, seeking her eyes.

"Thank Heaven, I am not! I never foreswore myself. I never opened my
lips, or formed a vow in my head. I never promised you anything," said
Jacquelina, turning away; and the rest of the journey was made in
silence.

CHAPTER XI.

DELL-DELIGHT

It should have been an enchanting home to which Thurston Willcoxen
returned after his long sojourn in Europe. The place, Dell-Delight,
might once have deserved its euphonious and charming name; now, however,
its delightfulness was as purely traditional as the royal lineage
claimed by its owners.

Mr. Willcoxen was one of those whose god is Mammon. He had inherited
money, married a half-sister of Commodore Waugh for money, and made
money. Year by year, from youth to age, adding thousands to thousands,
acres to acres; until now, at the age of ninety-five, he was the master
of incalculable riches.

He had outlived his wife and their three children; and his nearest of
kin were Thurston Willcoxen, the son of his eldest son; Cloudesley
Mornington, the son of his eldest daughter, and poor Fanny Laurie, the
child of his youngest daughter.

Thurston and Fanny had each inherited a small property independent of
their grandfather.

But poor Cloudy had been left an orphan in the worst sense of the
word--destitute and dependent on the "cold charity of the world,"
or the colder and bitterer alms of unloving rich relatives.

The oldest and nearest kinsman and natural guardian of the boys--old Mr.
Willcoxen--had, of course, received them into his house to be reared and
educated; but no education would he afford the lads beyond that
dispensed by the village schoolmaster, who could very well teach them
that ten dimes make a dollar, and ten dollars an eagle; and who could
also instruct them how to write their own names--for instance, at the
foot of receipts of so many hundred dollars for so many hogsheads of
tobacco; or to read other men's signatures, to wit, upon the backs of
notes of hand, payable at such a time, or on such a day. This was just
knowledge enough, he said, to teach the boys how to make and save money,
yet not enough to tempt them to spend it foolishly in travel, libraries,
pictures, statues, arbors, fountains, and such costly trumpery and
expensive tomfoolery.

To Thurston, who was his