attired in pure white, and her hair
looked like the dash of gold on a lily. One hand was on her husband's
arm, and with the other she clasped the hand of her father Silas.

"You won't be giving me away, father," she had said before they went to
church; "you'll only be taking Aaron to be a son to you."

Dolly Winthrop walked behind with her husband; and there ended the
little bridal procession.

There were many eyes to look at it, and Miss Priscilla Lammeter was
glad that she and her father had happened to drive up to the door of
the Red House just in time to see this pretty sight. They had come to
keep Nancy company to-day, because Mr. Cass had had to go away to
Lytherley, for special reasons. That seemed to be a pity, for
otherwise he might have gone, as Mr. Crackenthorp and Mr. Osgood
certainly would, to look on at the wedding-feast which he had ordered
at the Rainbow, naturally feeling a great interest in the weaver who
had been wronged by one of his own family.

"I could ha' wished Nancy had had the luck to find a child like that
and bring her up," said Priscilla to her father, as they sat in the
gig; "I should ha' had something young to think of then, besides the
lambs and the calves."

"Yes, my dear, yes," said Mr. Lammeter; "one feels that as one gets
older. Things look dim to old folks: they'd need have some young eyes
about 'em, to let 'em know the world's the same as it used to be."

Nancy came out now to welcome her father and sister; and the wedding
group had passed on beyond the Red House to the humbler part of the
village.

Dolly Winthrop was the first to divine that old Mr. Macey, who had been
set in his arm-chair outside his own door, would expect some special
notice as they passed, since he was too old to be at the wedding-feast.

"Mr. Macey's looking for a word from us," said Dolly; "he'll be hurt if
we pass him and say nothing--and him so racked with rheumatiz."

So they turned aside to shake hands with the old man. He had looked
forward to the occasion, and had his premeditated speech.

"Well, Master Marner," he said, in a voice that quavered a good deal,
"I've lived to see my words come true. I was the first to say there
was no harm in you, though your looks might be again' you; and I was
the first to say you'd get your money back. And it's nothing but
rightful as you should. And I'd ha' said the "Amens", and willing, at
the holy matrimony; but Tookey's done it a good while now, a