Alice sprang to the door. Philip was lending her father the aid of his strong young arm. Mr. Wilde walked with difficulty, and his arm hung down in a helpless manner. "Oh, father, are you hurt?" "Nothing to speak of--not worth mentioning,--a little bruised, and my left arm broken. Positively, I don't feel a bit of pain, since I see you unharmed, my darling." "But you'll come to a realizing sense of it, by the time we have set it, after its going so long unattended to," said Philip. "If I groan, punish me for it," replied the sturdy raftsman. The broken limb was soon set and splintered, and the friends had time to look in each others' faces, and realize they were altogether and safe. "You have not told us how you escaped so remarkably," said they to Alice. "Not anodder word at presen'," said Pallas, opening the door to the dining-room. "De weddin'-feas' has not been eaten--sech as it is, ye mus' stan' in need of it. 'Tain't what it would have been yesterday,--but I've did my bes' under de circumstances." "Take my place, Philip; I'll lie here on this lounge, and when puss is through, she can feed me." "If missus'll cut up his food, I'll wait on massa." As the declining energies of the party were recruited by the dinner, their spirits rose to something of the hilarity of the previous day;--if it had not been for genuine sympathy with the sorrow of the old servant, mirth would have prevailed in proportion to their past distress. An occasional exclamation, smothered in its birth, told them their host was not quite so easy as he affected to be; but he would let no one pity him, bearing his pain with fortitude. In the center of the table stood the bride's-cake, a snowy pyramid, the triumph of Pallas's skill, wreathed about with garlands. It was fair to look upon, within and without, and sweet to the taste as agreeable to the eyes. "Dar' was de whites of fifty eggs beaten up in dat cake," its maker declared, in an aside to Virginia. "Then I should call it a very egg-spensive and egg-stravagant article," remarked Mr. Raymond, who had heard the assertion. "'Tain't any too nice for de bride it was made fer, masser." "There's a ring in it," said Alice, as she performed the duty of the occasion by cutting the cake. "Who has it?" Everybody took their piece with curiosity, and finally Mr. Irving held up the golden circlet, giving, at the same time, a glance towards Virginia, too expressive to be misunderstood. "You'll be married next, Mr. Irving, and we hold ourselves all invited to the wedding," said Mrs. Raymond. "I hope I may be," replied that gentleman, with a second glance toward the bride-maid; but she was looking to her plate, and did not seem to hear him. Virginia had pursued the art of flirtation too long to abandon it at once.