“Kirk Bruce, to a T.” “Went out without a revolver----” “As you did yourself. I think,” concluded Raoul, “you had better give Miss Jeanie her ring back.” “If I do,” said I, “I’m damned.” 10. THEY were married the next day in the pretty little Episcopal church in Spartanburg, by the Bishop of Georgia. They left the same afternoon on their wedding journey back to “Old White” and the North. Miss Jeanie Bruce and I accompanied them--or rather, they us--as far as the junction station (I forget its name), where they met the east-bound train, and we were to keep on to Knoxville. Jeanie’s sweet face was very pale, but her eyes were like deep wells--so deep now that they indeed “unravelled the coiled night and saw the stars by noon.” She had to sit by me now; but her silence appealed even to a blunted Northern sense of chivalry. I foresaw that I, too, should have to keep silence until I had brought her home to Knoxville. But not a day longer! Not an hour, I finally vowed. But oh, the beauty of that immediate future! The long twenty hours’ journey after they left us at the junction--where she was under my protection, and no Kirk Bruce could say me nay! Even chivalry at such times is like a _sordine_ on one harp-string--heart-string I had almost said. And one’s being is so resonant that the note of speech is hardly missed. So, I had my two-hours’ day-dream, and then Mrs. Judge Pennoyer turned up on that east-bound train, as chaperone to bring us home. “You telegraphed for her?” I said to Jeanie. She did not deny it; and I thought Mrs. Pennoyer cast one look at me as of contempt. Then I saw her see the ring upon my finger, and her expression seemed to change. We saw the happy pair go off, and we went back to our seats in the returning train. We three; and one of us most miserable, and that was I. I had given up all hope of talking with Jeanie any more. She went off with Mrs. Pennoyer to a front seat, where I saw them in earnest consultation; and that ancient relict of justice tempered by mercy appeared to be speaking of me. I watched them; and I heard the words “Mr. Bruce” and “the ring;” and I saw Jeanie grow still more pale. Finally, to my glad astonishment, she rose, and like a brave lady--not like those Northern girls I knew in Salem, who would not dare throw a man a life preserver to save him from drowning--sweet and gracious, she came back to me. “Mr. Higginbotham” (what a name to set by Raoul, or even Bruce), “I must have my ring again,” said she. “Never,” I answered. “It is not your ring, but mine.” “I only lent it to you. I did not give it.” “Then lend it to me a little longer--till I have seen you home,” I said. Her eyes filled with tears, and my heart was drowned in them. “But Mrs. Pennoyer says Cousin Kirk is waiting for us there. Oh, please.” “Let him wait,” I said. “But, please. I implore you--as you----” “As I love you,” I said. “As I love you, I shall keep it. Will you marry me?”