To Lilla Grahame it was indeed a pleasure to revisit Oakwood, particularly when Lieutenant Fortescue was amongst its inmates.  Edward’s manner was gallantly courteous to all his fair friends; a stranger might have found it difficult to say which was his favourite, but there was something about both him and Miss Grahame which very often called from Ellen a smile.

It was an interesting group assembled in the old parish church on the day that united our favourite Emmeline with her long-beloved Arthur, but it was far from being a day of unmingled gladness.  Deep and chastened as was the individual and mutual happiness of the young couple, they could neither of them forget that there was a beloved one wanting; that they had once hoped the same day that beheld their nuptials would have witnessed also those of Herbert and his Mary.

Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton had looked with some degree of dread to this day, as one of painful recollection to Herbert; but he, perhaps of all who were around him, was the most composed, and as the impressive ceremony continued, he thought only of those dear ones whose fate he thus united; he felt only the solemn import of the prayers he said, and his large and beautiful eyes glistened with enthusiasm as in former days.  It would have been a sweet group for a skilful painter, those three principal figures beside the altar.  Herbert, as we have described him; Emmeline, in her simple garb of white, her slight figure and peculiarly feminine expression of countenance causing her to appear very many years younger than in reality she was; and Arthur, too, his manly features radiant with chastened yet perfect happiness, seemed well fitted to be the protector, the friend of the gentle being who so soon would call him husband, and look to him alone for happiness.  Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton rejoiced that their beloved child was at length blessed in the gratification of her long-cherished, long-controlled hopes; that, as far as human eye could penetrate, they had secured her happiness by giving her to the man she loved.  There was one other kneeling beside the altar on whom Mrs. Hamilton looked with no small anxiety, for the emotion she perceived, appeared to confirm the idea that it was indeed Arthur Myrvin who had engrossed the affections of her niece.  There are mysteries in the human heart for which we seek in vain to account; associations and sympathies that come often uncalled-for and unwished.  Ellen knew not wherefore the scene she witnessed pressed strangely on her heart; she struggled against the feeling, and she might perhaps have succeeded in concealing her inward emotions, but suddenly she looked on Herbert.  She marked him radiant, it seemed, in health and animation, his words flashed across her mind; soon would the hue of death be on that cheek, the light of that eye be dimmed, that sweet and thrilling voice be hushed on earth for ever; that beautiful form bent down as a flower, “the wind passeth over it and it is gone, and the place thereof shall know it no more;” and thus would it soon be with him she loved.  The gush of feeling mocked all her efforts at control, Ellen buried her face in her hands, and her slight frame shook, and the low choking sob was distinctly heard in the brief silence that followed the words, “Those whom God hath joined let no man put asunder.”