As the time approached for the happy couple to depart on their short honeymoon, order was called, and the guests, having arranged themselves soberly, listened to an exhortation from the Rev. Samuel Boase, the clergyman who officiated at the marriage. The worthy man discoursed at some length on the holiness of the institution, and it was only the sound of carriage wheels, as they grated away from the portico, that aroused him to the fact that the newly-wedded pair had slipped away unobserved. Hastily concluding his speech, the reverend gentleman included his amen in a rush for the bag of rice, and, seizing a handful, attempted to pursue the carriage, followed by all the guests. They were too late, however, and all came in hot, breathless, and a little disappointed. Eddy Bunny alone was satisfied. Armed with an old shoe, he had concealed himself in the shrubbery, and as the carriage drove by he aimed this at Galbraith with a precision acquired by long practice with the catapult. It was some little time before the victim recovered from the shock, and when he did the carriage was well on its way toward the railway station. The honeymoon lasted barely a fortnight, for two reasons, one being that the Rev. Samuel Boase was unable to take Galbraith's work for more than that period, and the other the important factor of expense. Back they came, then, from a short trip to the hills near Bombay. It was the first real holiday Galbraith had ever enjoyed. The long day's dream under the trees, the gathering of ferns in some secluded glen, the rest, and, above all, the dear companionship he had, combined to make it very sweet. Galbraith told his wife of the mental struggle he was perpetually undergoing, and received much help from her clear common sense and healthful sympathy. She in her turn gave him no half-confidence, but told him honestly the story of her life. She touched as lightly as possible on her former husband's ill-treatment of her, on his cruelty and neglect, for the man was dead. She told him how, two years back, the Mahi sailed from Cochin for the Mauritius, and from that time was heard of no more, until a solitary survivor came back with a dreadful tale of the sea. He told how the ship had been scuttled, how all the boats were rendered useless except one, into which the captain and two others escaped. Clinging to a spar himself, he had seen a great green wave swamp the boat, and then for him came three days of hideous agony, and at last rescue. Of the death of her husband no doubt ever crossed Halsa's mind. She had seen the newspaper reports of the inquiry into the disaster, and had interviewed the rescued man. She opened a school at Cochin, and was enabled to keep her head above water with this, and with the proceeds of flower-painting, in which she had some proficiency. Then came a fortunate legacy of some four hundred pounds, and she consulted Mr. Bunny, a cousin of her husband, on business matters connected with this.