Davy was dying of impatience. Would she be the same dear old Nell? “Nell--Nelly,” he shouted, “I’ve kep’ my word.” “Aw, give her time, Capt’n,” said Kinvig; “a new frock isn’t rigged up in no time, not to spake of a silk handkercher going pinning round your throat.” But Davy, who had waited ten years, would not wait a minute longer, and he was making for the stairs with the purpose of invading Nell’s own bedroom, when the lady herself came sweeping down on tiptoes. Davy saw her coming in a cloud of silk, and at the next moment the slippery stuff was crumbling, and whisking, and creaking under his hands, for his arms were full of it. “Aw, mawther,” said he. “They’re like honeysuckles--don’t spake to me for a week. Many’s the time I’ve been lying in my bunk a-twigging the rats squeaking and coorting overhead, and thinking to myself, Kisses is skess with you now, Davy.” The wedding came off in a week. There were terrific rejoicings. The party returned from church in the landau that brought up Davy’s luggage. At the bridge six strapping fellows, headed by the blacksmith, and surrounded by a troop of women and children, stretched a rope across the road, and would not let the horses pass until the bridegroom had paid the toll. Davy had prepared him-self in advance with two pounds in sixpenny bits, which made his trowsers pockets stand out like a couple of cannon balls. He fired those balls, and they broke in the air like shells. At the wedding breakfast in the barn at Ballavolly Davy made a speech. It was a sermon to young fellows on the subject of sweethearts. “Don’t you marry for land,” said he. “It’s muck,” said he. “What d’ye say, Billiam--you’d like more of it? I wouldn’t trust; but it’s spaking the truth I am for all. Maybe you think about some dirty ould trouss: ‘She’s a warm girl, she’s got nice things at her--bas’es and pigs, and the like of that.’ But don’t, if you’rr not a reg’lar blundering blockit.” Then, looking down at the top of Nelly’s head, where she sat with her eyes in her lap beside him, he softened down to sentiment, and said, “Marry for love, boys; stick to the girl that’s good, and then go where you will she’ll be the star above that you’ll sail your barque by, and if you stay at home (and there’s no place like it) her parting kiss at midnight will be helping you through your work all next day.” The parting kiss at midnight brought Davy’s oration to a close, for a tug at his coat-tails on Nelly’s side fetched him suddenly to his seat. Two hours afterward the landau was rolling away toward the Castle Mona Hotel at Douglas, where, by Nell’s arrangement, Capt’n Davy and his bride were to spend their honeymoon. CHAPTER II.