_Cyrus._ I will. _Luther._ Will you take this wedded boy for your husband? _Ruth._ I will. _Luther._ Do you promise to endure with all your worldly goods? _Cyrus._ I do. _Luther._ Will you hold on for better than worse? _Ruth._ I will. _Luther._ You promise to obey? _Cyrus._ I do. _Luther._ Until death departs, richer or poorer and cherish. _Ruth._ I do. _Cyrus._ It is. _Luther._ I denounce you as man and wife. _Cyrus._ I do. _Ruth._ No, Cyrus, you say nothing. _Cyrus._ Nothing. _Ruth._ No, no! You don't say anything--just keep still. _Luther._ With this ring I you wed. _Cyrus._ No. _I_ say that! He said it, and with heroic self-control bade a silent farewell to his silver treasure as he slipped it on a finger of the bride. Then, to the rejoicing music, they marched down the aisle. Outside the church the bride, who feared a renewal of the conflict, looked about with anxious eyes for the Budding Outlaw. But she had no cause for alarm. The Budding Outlaw was visible, far down the street, beyond the common, marching with humble mien, reflecting sadly on the uncertainties of human life. [Illustration] V HE MEETS TWO LADIES Miss Anita Clement was the maiden lady who had rented, with her two unmarried sisters, Mr. David Lothrop's house at the west end of the village. She had a girlish figure, good features and soulful eyes. Her exact age was somewhere between twenty-five and forty. This lady's delicate beauty was impaired a trifle by a nervous mouth which told, in spite of all efforts to the contrary, that its owner was easily annoyed, and was a stranger to the various blessings of a tranquil spirit. She had no sense of humor; but this deficiency was counterbalanced by a profound respect for the conventions of life, and by a sincere and humble adoration of her own religious creed, with a corresponding contempt for all others. Her dominant attribute was timidity. Compared with Miss Clement, the average mouse was a fearless desperado. As is usually the case with such temperaments, her nerves were assertive.