It was the 26th day of April. The air smelled of balmy spring, a warm sun was overhead, a gentle breeze stirred the leaves amid which the birds sang, and the whole earth seemed a happy place. I jumped out of bed to look over the new suit, which I had, after much time and thought, managed to get together. It was of dark plum-colored stuff, soft to the touch, and became me as well as any coat and breeches I ever had. I laid out a new pair of boots, the pliable leather black and shiny, spread out my cloak on the bed, and was ready to dress for the wedding. I strapped my sword on, feeling that I was now in proper trim for the occasion. The weapon was the same good one which had stood me in such stead all along. It had received many a hard knock, the scabbard was not as free from dents as when I had it from the maker, it was rather rusty, too, I thought, the blade being stained here and there.

I sent to the innkeeper for some rags and rotten stone, that I might polish the steel up. Master Aleworthy appeared himself with the stuff. When he saw my fine looks (for I do myself that credit) he would not let me burnish up the weapon, but insisted on doing it for me. 339A very proper attempt he made of it, too, for, when he had finished it shone like a new shilling.

“Now for breakfast,” he said.

“Not for me,” I replied, “there will be plenty of fodder when this affair is over.”

“But, Sir Francis, ’twill be a long time to then.”

“Short enough,” was my answer.

I strode out across the fields to the Captain’s house, hoping I might get a glimpse of Lucille. But if she had been hard to see a week ago, she was ten times more so now. At every door I tried I was bidden to take myself off, and call again. Finally, being somewhat vexed, I called to one saucy hussy:

“Know, madame, that I am to wed to-day. That I am the groom.”

“Aye, I know it,” she responded, as cool as you please. “You will be sent for when you are wanted.”

With that I had to be content, kicking my heels up and down the garden path. Noon was the time. It wanted two hours yet.

It seemed a month that I was in the garden. At last some one beckoned to me, and I was admitted in to see Lucille.

I would have gone up, before them all, to kiss her heartily, but she held me off with her little hands, while a chorus of protests from all the women told me I must respect the manner in which she was adorned. Indeed, she made a handsome appearance. The dress was of soft, gray-white, 340shimmering silk, with pieces of lace as long as my gun barrel all about it, hung on after the manner of the clinging vine that twines about a tree. The sleeves had it in, I think, also, the neck, while there was a plenty trailing down the front and lower edge. She wore a crown of glossy green leaves, a single white flower in her dark hair.

The plan was for the party to go to the block house in carts, half a score of which, festooned with evergreens, were in waiting. Instead of letting Lucille and me go on together, which seemed to me to be the most sensible way, she rode with James Blithly, a great booby of a chap, while I had to sit in the cart with Mistress Alice Turner, a sweet enough maid. She was talkative, and I was not so, on the way, I had to keep answering “yes” and “no” to her questions.

It looked as though all the Colony and the folk from ten miles around had come to the wedding. There were nearly three hundred people in view when we neared the place where Dominie Worthington was awaiting us. There were a number of Indians and their squaws, friendly, all of them, who had gathered to see ho............