he room, and took her hand and kissed it.

"Marian," I said, "will you marry me to-day?"

She sent a hurried look around the three of us, and as a woman
discovers things, knew that they were against me in the matter. It took
her not one second to decide for me, and my being leaped toward her as
she spoke.

"When you will, my lord," she said. "I have no wishes that are not your
own."

It was a little past noon of the same day, with none to see save Sandy
Carmichael, Dame Dickenson, and Uncle Ben, that Father Pierre, from the
Cairn Mills, made Marian and myself one in a marriage such as the gods
intended when the world was young and the age of gold.

About three o'clock Sandy left us, going on horse to join his party,
which was to lay by for him at Landgore. Marian and I walked with him
far beyond the sea light, he leading his horse and telling us that it
was but the strong remembrance that he had a wife at home which
prevented his carrying her away with him. He had great joy in my
happiness, and his strong laugh rolled round and round in echoes among
the rocks as we went along together. Before we parted his mood changed
a bit, and he turned suddenly and laid his arm across my shoulder.

"You'll not forget me, laddie?" he said earnestly, with his head turned
a bit from me so that his eyes could not be seen.

Our hands gripped each other at the end, as though we could not speak
the word of good-by, and my dear, who knew the thought--that my
marriage might in some way make the friendship between us less
close--took our locked hands between her little ones and held them to
her breast.

"Believe me," she said, as though making a vow, "that all I can ever do
to make this friendship stronger I shall do; oh, believe me in that!"

Sandy kissed her on the cheek, she stuck a piece of pink heather in his
coat, and he mounted his horse and was off at a bolt. Twice we saw him
turn and wave his cap toward us; we called to him, and he shouted back
something in return, the meaning of which we were unable to discover,
and so went down a sudden turn of the rocks and was lost to sight.

* * * * *

There are some parts of every life that can not be set forth. The first
sacred months of my marriage are of these. The little inn, which was no
longer in Dame Dickenson's possession, I purchased, and we made it into
a home. And the time is all of Marian! Marian standing in white in the
going do