to taking their vows of eternal constancy and devotion, the world held
but those two.

In the sweet silence that pervaded the overflowing church, the two young
voices rang out clearly as they repeated their solemn pledges.
Unflinchingly they had weathered their winter of despair. It was
eminently fitting that happiness should now flood their loyal souls.
Among the large assemblage that had gathered to witness the welding of
that holy bond, there was not one person who did not rejoice with Grace
and Tom.

Over a month had passed since that memorable October evening when Tom
Gray, looking but a shadow of his formerly robust self, had set foot on
the platform of the Oakdale station to receive the fervent welcome of
those whose lives and interests were centered in his own. As his arrival
had been kept a secret, few by-standers were at the station when he
arrived. After the first rush of greeting had spent itself, he was
affectionately conducted to Mrs. Gray's limousine with herself, the
Wingates, Grace, David and Jean as a bodyguard. Though still weak, three
days of rest had done much for him. Whatever he still lacked in mere
physical strength, he was the same buoyant, cheerful Tom, with only a
slight limp in his walk, and a touch of haunting wistfulness in his gray
eyes as a reminder of his terrible experience.

At home once more and surrounded by every luxury and with every
consideration that those who loved him could offer, health came back
with a rush. His rugged constitution had stood him in good stead during
those dark days in the sequestered hut, and by the first of November he
was quite himself again.

During the days of his rapid convalescence, the earlier-interrupted
wedding plans went steadily forward. The bitterness of loss had doubly
endeared Grace and Tom to each other. Out of the ashes of suffering,
affection had put forth a new growth which to them seemed completely to
dwarf their love of previous days. In proportion to the sorrow which had
been hers when she wrote to her comrades regarding the postponement of
her marriage was the supreme joy she experienced in writing them of
Tom's return. With Tom at home and entirely well again, she felt that
she could this time defy fate in setting her wedding day for the
sixteenth of November.

And now the day had dawned, perfect in its autumnal beauty. Though the
trees were bare of leaves, the Oakdale gardens and lawns still flaunted
a few late-blooming, rich-h