“Ay, David, I will marry you first, and hear the tale after. It’s not too late; the sun was at noon but half an hour ago, and the company will be glad not to miss the wedding.” He took her by the hand, and led her into the next room. The guests fell back into their places, whispering, nudging, wondering. In consideration of the feast awaiting, and in view of the curiosity which pervaded the entire party, the minister’s harangue was not so lengthy as usual, and the two standing before him were wedded in short order, but in the prayer there were fewer allusions to the wife’s being in obedience to her husband, and more expressions of thankfulness than were commonly spoken; the good pastor evidently felt that the young man had escaped disaster, and did not hesitate to say so. The final blessing had hardly been pronounced when the curious friends crowded around. “Yer story, David; ye promised it.” “Tut, tut!” cried Polly O’Neill, “an’ where are yer good wishes? Ye’re that ongracious, all o’ ye, that ye’d leave the bride an’ groom wid no congratulaytions at all. Here’s good health to ye, Mr. an’ Mrs. David Campbell, an’ may ye have thumpin’ luck.” Then came a merry effort from each to outdo the others in getting a hand-shake, a kiss from the bride, and a chance to offer good wishes, the minister standing by in his blacks, a serious smile upon his kind, weatherbeaten face. The girls laughing, pushing, exclaiming, exchanging jokes with the young men, were first to throw themselves upon the bride’s neck, after she had received the kisses of her father and mother; and then the young men must kiss the bride, too; and the more saucy damsels challenged the groom for a like exchange. So for a time there was much merry-making and laughter. When the last good wish had been spoken, the minister turned to the company. “My friends,” he said, “I think David has something to say to us, and if ye will all take orderly places, we shall hear it.” David, blushing up to the roots of his hair, stood awkwardly facing the guests. “My friends,” he began, “I owe my excuses to ye for keeping ye waiting, but when I tell ye how it came about, I think ye’ll say it was no because I lacked the wish to get here.” He paused and looked around for encouragement. “Ay, David,” said the minister, “nae one doubts the desire.” David continued. “This morning at daybreak I was forty miles away from here. I left Maxwell’s yesterday morn, expecting to get here by sundown, but after I’d gone a mile I remembered something I had forgotten and turned back. A quarter mile further on, from the bushes sprang two men, one grabbed the bridle, the other covered me with his pistol. “‘Get off, peaceably,’ he says, ‘and ye’ll have no harm done ye.’ I felt for me knife, but it was yorked out of my hand, and knowing I’d not time for many hours’ delay, down I got. ‘Ye’re on the way to Maxwell’s,’ said one of the villyuns. “‘What’s that to you?’ said I.