n lightly up and down, only the
servants in the kitchen laid their heads together, and confided to each
other that "never did they see so daffin' a bride; Miss Leslie should
ken that a greetin' bride's a happy bride!" But no one told Leslie--no
one taught her the tender meaning of the wise old proverb--no one warned
her of the realities of life, so much sadder, so much holier, purer,
more peaceful than any illusion. Her mother had relapsed into her
ordinary calmness, rather wounding Leslie's perceptions when she allowed
herself to think of it, for she did not read the lingering assiduity
that was so intent it might have been employed upon her shroud. And
there was no one else--no; Leslie was quite unaware that her gladness
was ominous.

Only the shadow of a warning crossed Leslie's path of roses, and she
disregarded it. Her confidence in Hector Garret and in life remained
unbounded.

Leslie had gone to the best known of her early companions, her cup
brimming over in the gracious privilege of begging Mary Elliot to be
her bridesmaid. The Elliots had been kind to her, and had once taken her
to their cheerful country-house; and now Mary was to witness the
ceremony, and Hector Garret had said that she might, if she pleased, pay
Leslie a long visit at Otter.

Mary Elliot was a little older, a little more experienced in womanly
knowledge than Leslie.

"How strange it sounds that you should be married so soon, Leslie, from
your old house, where we thought you buried. We believed that you must
lead a single life, unless your father made a pet of one of his
students: and then you must have waited until he left college."

"It is the reverse. I have no time to lose," nodded Leslie; "only
Hector Garret is not old-looking. I don't believe that he has a
grey hair in his head. He is a far handsomer man than Susan Cheyne's
sister's husband."

"I know it; he was pointed out to me in the street. Is he very fond of
you, Leslie?"

"I suppose--a little, or he would not have me."

"Does he flatter you, pretend that you are a queen, say all manner of
fine things to you? I should like to be enlightened."

"No, no, Mary; real men are not like men in books--and he is not
foolish."

"But it is not foolish in a lover. They are all out of their
senses--blinded by admiration and passion."

"Perhaps; but Hector Garret is a clever man, only he speaks when he is
spoken to, and does not forget you when out of sight. And do you know,
I ha