edding was
going on in the castle, and clamored loudly for a sight of their lady
and her bridegroom.

After a little, the windows along the facade of the building were thrown
back, and a gay throng poured itself into a broad balcony, that
projected a little over the stone terrace, where the wine was flowing,
and the eager people crowding forward for the first look.

Foremost came Lord Hilton, leading Clara--Lady Carset--by the hand. Then
Hepworth Closs stepped forth, and on his arm a bright, sparkling little
figure, in a cloud of gauzy silk, and crowned with white roses, who
smiled and kissed her hand to the crowd, while her little feet kept
time, and almost danced, to the music, which broke from terrace and
covert as the bridal party appeared.

Standing a little back, near one of the windows, stood two gentlemen,
one very old and stricken in years, who leaned heavily on his cane, and
looked smilingly down upon the multitude swaying in front of the castle;
and well he might, for two of the finest estates in England had been
joined that day, and from horizon to horizon stretched the united lands
which the children of his grandson would inherit.

The other gentleman, standing there with the sad, worn face was Lord
Hope, who leaned heavily against the window-frame, and looked afar off
over the heads of the multitude wearily, wearily, as if the days of
marrying and giving in marriage were all a blank to him. When the young
bride, who had given up her name, title and fortune willingly to
another, came up to him at the window, she laid her hand tenderly on his
arm, whispering:

"Farewell, father, farewell! I am not the less your child because of the
blue blood, for she cannot love you better than I do. Will you not shake
hands with my husband, father?"

Lord Hope lifted his heavy eyes to Hepworth Closs, saw the features of
another, whom no one ever mentioned now, in that face, flung both arms
about the bridegroom, shaking from head to foot with tearless sobs.

A little while after a carriage drove from Houghton to the station, and
in two days a steamer sailed with Hepworth Closs and his wife, with that
kind and faithful man, her father, for New York.

Just as they were about to sail, an old woman came quietly into the
second-class cabin, paid her passage, and rested there, never coming on
deck till the steamer landed. Then she gathered up her effects in a
carpet-bag and went ashore.

That night a fire blazed on the