TH

FROM "SUSAN'S ESCORT"1

BY EDWARD EVERETT HALE

HEY had no minister at New Padua, or rather he had a sore throat, and was studying evolution at Halle. So our Father Lawrence went over there to marry them. All the people went over. Strangest of all, Mrs. Montague went over.

"Not that I go willingly," she said to Effie at the last moment, as the girl arranged some magnificent diamonds which Romayne had given his mother; "I do not go willingly, and no one thinks I go willingly. But who knows? They may be married by the bishop. They were never very sound. Then there must be some one to give my son away."

For Mrs. Montague leans to the third primitive secession, and is doubtful about other rituals than her own. So she went to her martyrdom. She herself saw to the toilets of her daughters, in a fashion, so that those wretched girls at the Hoods' should not in any sort eclipse them. How many there were she did not know, she said; she believed they made up most of the scholars. Her own "exhibit," as the managers of fairs say, was perfect. Her coachman Michael was in a new livery with an immense favour. Otto was on the box with Michael, with a bigger favour. Only Fritz was in Mrs. Montague's carriage; and the girls, with Romayne, were in their own carriage behind, with Anders as grand as Michael, and François with him on the box, each with gorgeous favours. Even the horses had favours covering the blinders, which the grooms had compelled the chambermaids to make for them. Then, in that great drag which the Montagues sent to the station for their guests, followed every man and woman of the staff of

1 From "Susan's Escort," published by Harper & Brothers.

the house. Actually old Katy, the housekeeper, who had carried Romayne to the font when he was baptised, locked the side door, and put the key in her pocket. For there was not one person in that house who would stay away from Romayne's wedding. Had Mrs. Montague stayed, I do not know who would have got her supper.

"I should have been frightened out of my skin," said she. And at the seminary everything was elegant and just right. It was "ever so pretty." Since Mrs. Hood bought the Flinder's lot, and made her own avenue through the maples, the approach to the house has been "about as fine as they make." To-night this was blazing with electric light, and the designs for the illumination, without being showy, were all convenient, pretty, and, to us country people, wholly new. The greenhouse must have been emptied, I should have said, such was the show of plants. at the entrance. But afterwards, when I took Bianca in there to get a part of this story from her and to have “a little conversation," I did not see but it was as brilliant as ever. Anyway, we entered through a tropical garden. I saw that dried-up Mr. Roger from the apothecary store, and Hugh Roger by him. Juliet had not forgotten her old friends.

We were shown to various disrobing-rooms by pretty maids, who had little favours of orange-blossoms. Strauss's orchestra from New York was playing music so ravishing that I would have pardoned Father Lawrence if the service all went out of his head as he listened. Romayne came up with me and some of the other fellows. He made his sister carry in for Juliet the great blue box which held her bouquet.

A minute more and Effie came out again, blushing her prettiest, and said, " Juliet wants to see you, Ro."

And Ro went into that mysterious bride-chamber, which he had never seen before. And there stood his own dear girl, wonderful and gracious. Her veil lay across a great table waiting for the bridesmaid to put it on her at the last moment. The damask in which Madam Mifflin, her

great-grandmother, had been married, had been dug out of a Ginevra chest. Madam Mifflin's skeleton was not found with it, for she lived to dance at Madison's second inauguration. This brocade was to be worn to-night. And Romayne said, "Oh, my darling, I'm afraid to kiss you." "Never fear that," said she. "We will do it again when I am ninety to remember to-night by."

"It seemed to me," said he, "that the day would never be done."

"But it is, you see. When will you learn to be reasonable? Romayne, when you say such things I am afraid for you."

"Afraid for me, Juliet?

"I am afraid that you will forget that the pressure increases with the squares, and even with the cubes, and if your lower ranges are to stand it long, you must put in heavier tubing."

"Oh, now you can laugh; you may say anything," said the happy fellow, only wondering that she chose to chaff him just now.

"You goose!" said she; "do you not know why I have called you?"

"I hoped you called me to marry me," said he, ruefully. "I called you to explain to you the mystery."

My darling, you are so beautiful I forgot there was a mystery."

"That is enough," said Juliet. "I thought you were perfect; now I know you are. All the more shall you know." Then, with a tragic pause, "Do you see this key? Do Do you see yon door? Open it." And she stood silent, not quite daring to look up.

Romayne opened the door. Within was a perfect plumber's equipment, — pincers, clippers, big solderers, little solderers, bismuth strip, superstrip, substrip, saws, augers, test-bottles, cinnamon and rose-water, piping of every size, all were there.

Romayne, your own Juliet does the plumbing for the seminary. This is my mystery and my mother's."