One day the little bevy of feminine councillors looked at their work, and pronounced all beautiful, and all finished; and then there was a lull in the busy household, and then every one was conscious of being a little weary; and every one also felt, that it would be well to let heart, and brain, and fingers, and feet rest.  In a few days there would likely be another English letter, and they could then form some idea as to when Lord Hyde would arrive.  The last letter received from him had been written in London, and the ship in which he was to sail, was taking on her cargo, while he impatiently waited at his hotel for notice of her being ready to lift her anchor.  The doctor thought it highly probable Hyde would follow this letter in a week, or perhaps less.

During this restful interval, Doctor and Mrs. Moran drove out one afternoon to Hyde Manor House.  A message from Madame Van Heemskirk asked this favour from them; she wished naturally that they should see how exquisitely beautiful and comfortable was the home, which her Joris had trusted her to prepare for his bride.  But she did not wish Cornelia to see it, until the bride-groom himself took her across its threshold.  “An old woman’s fancy it is,” she said to Mrs. Moran; “but no harm is there in it, and not much do I like women who bustle about their houses, and have no fancies at all.”

“Nor I,” answered Mrs. Moran with a merry little laugh.  “Do you know, that I told John to buy my wedding ring too wide, because I often heard my mother say that a tight wedding ring was unlucky.”  Then both women smiled, and began delightedly to look over together the stores of fine linen and damask, which the mother of Joris had laid up for her son’s use.

It was a charming visit, and the sweet pause in the vivid life of the past few weeks, was equally charming to Cornelia.  She rested in her room till the short daylight ended; then she went to the parlour and drank a cup of tea, and closed the curtains, and sat down by the hearth to wait for her father and mother.  It was likely they would be a little late, but the moon was full and the sleighing perfect, and then she was sure they would have so much to tell her, when they did reach home.

So still was the house, so still was the little street, that she easily went to the land of reverie, and lost herself there.  She thought over again all her life with her lover; recalled his sweet spirit, his loyal affection, his handsome face, and enchanting manner.  “Heaven has made me so fortunate,” she thought, “and now my fortune has arrived at my wishes.  Even his delay is sweet.  I desire to think of him, until all other thoughts are forgotten!  Oh, what lover could be loved as I love him!”

Then with a soft but quick movement the door flew open, she lifted her eyes, to fill them with love’s very image and vesture; and with a cry of joy flew to meet the bliss so long afar, but now so near.  “O lovely and beloved!  O my love!” Hyde cried, and then there was a twofold silence; the very ecstasy that no mortal words can utter.  The sacred hour for which all their lives had longed, was at last dropt down to them from heaven.  Between their kisses they spoke of things remembered, and of things to be, leaning to each other in visible sweetness, while