“I am too happy to talk about it,” she said; “it is the one thing to make the day complete; but oh! Mr. St. Aubyn, I have so often wanted to thank you for what you said to me that day long ago about the lost son and the returning home. It was such a help. It was that which made me begin to pray in hope for Eustace, instead of naming him only in a sort of faithless despondency. I was in danger of being like the elder brother, and looking upon him and many others as altogether beyond the pale of the Father’s love. After that I could always pray in hope; and I think--I believe, that my prayers did help him. You know what you said about that being God’s way of leading to Him some one who would not yet pray for himself.” The clergyman smiled tenderly upon the girl. “God bless you, my child,” he said softly. “I think you will be your mother over again as the years go by. Such faith as hers I have never seen in any one else, but I think I shall live to see it in you.” “I have received so much,” answered Bride softly, “I should not be able to doubt even if I wished.” Only a few minutes later, and Bride entered the room where Eustace lay, leaning on her father’s arm, her face shaded by her veil, but not so concealed that its serene beauty and composure could not be seen. Some dozen of the old servants of the castle, and two or three old friends, were present to witness the simple ceremony; but Bride only saw Eustace; and none who caught the glance that flashed from one to the other ever forgot it. The room was decked with flowers, everything was perfectly simple, yet perfectly appropriate, and Mr. St. Aubyn’s rendering of the holy words was doubly impressive from the peculiar circumstances of the case. Bride’s vows were spoken with a steady sweetness which brought tears to many eyes; all the faltering was on Eustace’s part, and was made through the depth of his emotion. It was a strangely simple yet strangely impressive wedding, never forgotten by those who saw it. When all was spoken that was needed to make them man and wife, Bride stooped and kissed her husband, without a thought of any who stood by, and they heard the passionate intensity of love in the voice that responded-- “My Bride--my wife!” [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER XXIV _CONCLUSION_ Bride was riding homewards from Pentreath to the castle on a sunny day early in June. The sound of joy-bells was in the air, the faces of men were glad and triumphant, all nature seemed in tune with the general rejoicing which some recent event had plainly set on foot; and the young wife’s face was glad, too, though thoughtfully and temperately. For she knew that the news of which she was the bearer would gladden the heart of her husband, though it would not be to him now that source of triumphant exhilaration which it would have been a year before.