red. Such as received cards
printed in gold were to consider themselves particularly honored. In
short, she divided her guests into three classes--select friends,
friends, and acquaintances, and sent them cards accordingly. This manner
of distinguishing between guests got the lady into a deal of trouble,
and gave rise to much ill-feeling between those who held cards printed
in gold and those holding ordinary red ones. Beau Pinks had been honored
with a card printed in gold, which he said was a proof of the high
esteem he was held in by the lady. In truth, the Beau took great pride
in showing this card to the best Bowling Green society, and, with a
suggestive nod of the head, saying he had got his best clothes ready,
and was waiting to put in an appearance. Mrs. Chapman had always
regarded Pinks as a valuable capture, and if he came to the wedding,
why, that would in part be gaining the advantage she desired, and in a
measure pay off the old score she had against a few of these nice old
Bowling Green people.

It must be said to Pinks' credit that he never declined an invitation to
a wedding, and rarely missed a chance to mourn at a friend's funeral.

And while Mrs. Chapman seemed to think of nothing else, and talk of
nothing else but this great coming event, Chapman had been noticed to
wear a more serious look than usual, and indeed to be in a more
thoughtful mood. Indeed it was evident there was something on his mind
causing him deep anxiety, even distress. It was noticed, too, that he
had for several days gone to business earlier than usual and returned
later. And when Mrs. Chapman requested an explanation, he would reply by
saying: "Matters at the counting-house require examining into, my dear."
In truth, the financial affairs of the great Kidd Discovery Company had
begun to exhibit those infirmities which are a sure sign of speedy
wreck.

And now the day was come when Mattie was to be married to Mr. Gusher. It
was three years to-day since Tite bid her good-bye and sailed on his
voyage, and it was to be her wedding-day. How strange the changed scene
seemed to her.

It was one of those soft and balmy mornings in May, when nature seems to
enchant us, and hold sweet communion with us through all her beauties.
There was not a ripple on the water; white sails dotted the calm
surface of the bay, which seemed like a silvery lake quietly sleeping in
the embrace of pretty green hills, softened by the golden gleams of the