“Nay,” replied Robert, smiling tenderly at her naïveté. “Love the pretty things all ye like, dearie, for hereafter ye shall have the finest gowns in town. Ye shall select whatsoever your fancy pleases—dresses, bonnets, mits, boots,” and he enumerated on his fingers all the articles he could remember so dear to a woman’s heart. “Shall I really, really?” she gasped as he finished, looking at him with wondering eyes. “I hae never bought a pretty thing in a’ my life, ye ken, an’ oh, won’t it be just sweet? We’ll go to the shops to-morrow, an’ Mrs. Dunlop will help me select my—my wedding gown.” She held her head away bashfully, blushing pink before the sudden fire that gleamed in the dark eyes bent on her so devotedly. “Your wedding gown?” he repeated, with dreamy softness. “Let it be silk, Mary, white, soft and shimmering, to float around ye like a cloud of sunshine. An’ ye must have a bridal veil too, lassie, one sae fine an’ transparent that it will cover ye o’er like the morning mist.” “I would be afraid to buy so much,” she replied gravely. “’Twould be too costly, an’ ye canna’ afford to waste sae much money to deck me out like a lady,” and she shook her head in firm disapproval. He laughed heartily at her sober face and air of housewifely prudence. “My dear,” he whimsically told her, “dinna’ ye mind the cost. A weddin’ doesna’ often happen in one’s lifetime, sae we’ll make it a grand one this time.” “Ye’ll spoil me, Robbie,” she answered, smiling happily. “Nay, ye’re too sweet and lovely to be spoiled.” “Well, ye ken,” she replied demurely, “sweet things spoil the quickest.” Before he could reply, the rattle of a carriage over the pavement sounded loudly through the room. As it stopped at the door, Mary gave a little sigh of regret. “It’s Mrs. Dunlop, returning for me at last,” she said. She secretly hoped the sharp old eyes would not miss the cloak. “Aye, like the good fairy godmother,” smiled Robert, as he led her out of the room and down the stairs. “I feel as if I were in a dream,” she murmured softly, picking up her train, and lovingly holding it over her arm, as she walked daintily across the sidewalk to the waiting carriage. “If I am, laddie,” she continued earnestly, “I hope I may never awake from it; I want to dream on forever.” CHAPTER XV