If a tear gathered in her eye, it was a tear of joy; and there, at the altar, amongst all those to whom she was henceforth to be united by the ties of relationship, she inwardly vowed to devote herself to their happiness, and to the fulfilment of the promises she was making to him who would be one with her for ever.

The churchyard was full of spectators, as the proud and happy Owen led his bride through it to the vicarage, and the general opinion was, that there had never been married so handsome a couple in the church of Llanfach.

The bells and the sunbeams rang out and shone out together, and all the wedding-party forgot their private sorrows in the joy of the moment.

Even Netta, who had been taken to the vicarage for the occasion, received them with one of her old bright smiles.  She threw her arms round Gladys, and called her ‘sister.’

‘My sister,’ she said more than once emphatically.

And if tears would, from time to time, spring into her eyes, as she contrasted herself with Gladys, she brushed them away, and did her best not to cast a shadow from her grief, on the brightness of a brother and sister’s joy.  That little drawing-room at the vicarage contained as pretty and pleasant a group as could well be seen, of which Owen and Gladys formed the centre figures.

‘Now, my good girl, let me give you a real kiss,’ said honest Mr Prothero, ’and tell you that I am proud of my daughter.  Mother, what do you say?’

‘I say, thank God for all His mercies,’ said quiet Mrs Prothero, shaking Gladys’ hand, which she seemed loath to part with.

If there is a great variety of character and feeling displayed in shaking hands, there assuredly is, also, in kissing.  Gladys experienced it in that same little drawing-room, where she submitted her blushing cheeks to all sorts of impressions.

Mr Prothero gave her three very hearty smacks, which resounded through the room, and seemed to say at once, ’I am your father; his wife’s embrace was quieter, but more tender.  Mrs Jonathan stooped majestically, and imprinted her lips patronisingly on the forehead, as much as to say, ’I receive you into the family of the Payne Perrys, since you are respectably connected.’  Mrs Jones kissed her on the lips, and said, ’God bless you, my dear.’  Miss Gwynne, who hated kissing, and did not consider herself one of the family, looked on, but took no active part.  Was that pride? she asked herself afterwards, and the answer was, ‘Yes.’  As to Mr Jones, his embrace made Owen exclaim, ’It is well I know you are her uncle now.  I was as jealous as could be when you kissed her in London.’  Minette’s embrace was a long hug, and when the vicar came in, he wound up the scene by a salute as original as himself, which called forth the following reproof from his brother:—­

’Why, man, you don’t know how to kiss.  You stumbled upon the very tip of her nose, and almost put her eyes out with your spectacles.’