"How happy his poor wife must be!" was Dorothy's comment, as she stooped to pick up 'Bitha's kitten, which had followed Aunt Lettice, and was now darting at the steel buckles on the girl's shoes, where the bright fire was reflected in flickerings most inviting to kittenish eyes and gambols. "I think I'll ride over to town and see Mugford," said Hugh. "I want to congratulate him upon his escape." He glanced at Dorothy, as if half expecting her to speak, as he had just declined Aunt Lettice's urgent invitation that he return for supper, saying that his mother was looking for him before evening. But all Dorothy said was, "Here come father and 'Bitha." And she walked over toward the window. Hugh followed her, and said in a low voice, not meant for Aunt Lettice's ears, "You'll not forget our compact, Dot, and your promise?" "No," she answered, smiling at him; "nor will you yours?" "Never!" He pressed the hand she extended to him, and then hurried away. Joseph Devereux met him on the porch, and they stood talking for a few minutes, while 'Bitha came within, her cheeks ruddy from the nipping air. "Leet is back," she said, as she entered the drawing-room; "but Uncle Joseph says it is too cold for us to take so late a ride over to see Mistress Knollys." "So it is, 'Bitha," Dorothy assented. "But we'll go to the kitchen, and ask Tyntie to let us make some molasses pull." She was, for the moment, a child again, with all perplexing thoughts of redcoats and Hugh Knollys banished from her mind. CHAPTER XXII All the outdoor world seemed encased in burnished silver, as the new moon of early December came up from the black bed of the ocean's far-out rim, and mounting high and higher in the pale flush yet lingering from the gorgeous sunset, brought out sparklings from the snow drifted over the fields and fences of the old town. The roads were transformed into pavements of glittering mosaics and pellucid crystals; and all about the Devereux house the meadow lands stretched away like a shining sea whose waves had suddenly congealed, catching and holding jewels in their white depths. Dorothy was looking out at the beauty of it all, her face close to the pane her warm breath dimmed now and then, compelling her to raise a small hand to make it clear again for her vision. It was her brother's wedding night. And the girl was very fair and sweet to look upon, in her soft pink gown, with its dainty laces and ribbons, as she stood there awaiting the others; for they were all to drive into town, to the house of Mistress Horton, where the marriage was to be celebrated.