"He is one of the judges of the supreme court of the State, dear, and I must go to him. I hope he will not keep me long," said Mr. Rothsay, as he raised the hand of his bride to his lips and then left the room. With a sigh of intense relief Cora leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. People have been known to die suddenly in their chairs. Why could not she die as she sat there, with her whole head heavy and her whole heart faint, she thought. She listened--fearfully--for the return of her husband, but he did not come as soon as he had hoped to do; for while she listened the door bell rang again, and another visitor made his appearance, and after a short delay was shown into the library. Then came another, and still another, and afterward others, until the library must have been half full of callers on the governor-elect. And presently a large band of musicians halted before the house and began a serenade. They played and sang "Hail to the Chief," "Yankee Doodle," "Hail Columbia," and other popular or national airs. Mr. Rothsay and his friends went out to see them and thank them, and then their shouts rent the air as they retired from the scene. The gentlemen re-entered the house and retired to the library, where they resumed their discussion of official business, until another multitude had gathered before the house and shouts of-- "Hoo-rah-ah ah for Rothsay!" rose to the empyrean. Neither the governor-elect nor his companions responded in any way to this compliment until loud, disorderly cries for-- "Rothsay!" "Rothsay!" "Rothsay!" constrained them to appear. The governor-elect was again greeted with thundering cheers. When silence was restored he made a short, pithy address, which was received with rounds of applause at the close of every paragraph. When the speech was finished, he bowed and withdrew, and the crowd, with a final cheer, dispersed. Mr. Rothsay retired once more to the library, accompanied by his friends, to renew their discussion. Cora, in her restlessness of spirit, arose from her seat and walked several times up and down the floor. Presently, weary of walking, and attracted by the coolness and darkness of the back drawing room, in which the chandeliers had not been lighted, she passed between the draped blue satin portieres that divided it from the front room and entered the apartment. The French windows stood open upon a richly stored flower garden, from which the refreshing fragrance of dewy roses, lilies, violets, cape jasmines, and other aromatic plants was wafted by the westerly breeze. Cora seated herself upon the sofa between the two low French windows, and waited. Presently she heard the visitors taking leave. "The committee will wait on you between ten and eleven to-morrow morning," she heard one gentleman say, as they passed out. Then several "good nights" were uttered, and the guests all departed, and the door was closed.