“I wish you great joy and ebbery sort of happiness, Masser Mile,” said old Venus, kissing my hand, though I insisted it should be my face, as had often been her practice twenty years before.  “Ah! dis was a blessed day to old masser and missus, could dey saw it, but. And I won’t speak of anoder blessed saint dat be in heaven.  And you too, my dear young missus; now, we all so grad it be you, for we did t’ink, a one time, dat would nebber come to pass.”

Lucy laid her own little white velvet-like hand, with the wedding ring on its fourth finger, into the middle of Venus’s hard and horny palm, in the sweetest manner possible; reminding all around her that she was an old friend, and that she knew all the good qualities of every one who pressed forward to greet her, and to wish her happiness.

As soon as this part of the ceremony was over, we repaired to the rectory, where Lucy changed her wedding robe, for what I fancied was one of the prettiest demi-toilette dresses I ever saw.  I know I am now speaking like an old fellow, whose thoughts revert to the happier scenes of youth with a species of dotage, but it is not often a man has an opportunity of pourtraying such a bride and wife as Lucy Hardinge.  On this occasion she removed the comb and veil, as not harmonizing with the dress in which she reappeared, but the necklace was worn throughout the whole of that blessed day.  As soon as my bride was ready, Mr. Hardinge, Lucy, Moses and myself, entered the carriage, and drove over to Clawbonny.  Thither all Lucy’s wardrobe had been sent, an hour before, under Chloe’s superintendence, who had barely returned to the church in time to witness the ceremony.

One of the most precious moments of my life, was that in which I folded Lucy in my arms and welcomed her to the old place as its mistress.

“We came very near losing it, love,” I whispered; “but it is now ours, unitedly, and we will be in no hurry to turn our backs on it.”

This was in a tete-a-tete, in the family room, whither I had led Lucy, feeling that this little ceremony was due to my wife.  Everything around us recalled former scenes, and tears were in the eyes of my bride as she gently extricated herself from my arms.

“Let us sit down a moment, Miles, and consult on family affairs, now we are here,” she said, smiling.  “It may be early to begin, but such old acquaintances have no need of time to discover each other’s wishes and good and bad qualities.  I agree with you, heart and mind, in saying we will never turn our backs on Clawbonny—­dear, dear Clawbonny, where we were children together, Miles; where we knew so well, and loved so well, our departed Grace,—­and, I hope and trust, it will ever be our principal residence.  The country-house I inherit from Mrs. Bradfort is better suited to modern tastes and habits, perhaps, but it can never be one half so dear to either of us.  I would not speak