But Clement Sutherland was proof against all arguments and entreaties. He locked his grim jaws fast, and would yield not a cent or a kind word. At last Colonel Ashley left him in indignation and despair. He did not _then_ know that hate and revenge were not the only reasons that constrained the guardian of Mark Sutherland’s young bride to hold a death-grip upon her purse-strings. No one _then_ suspected that the money-grasping passion of the man had tempted him into ruinous speculations and embezzlement of the orphan’s funds. “Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof;” therefore, let them not dream it yet! A week after this betrothal, Mr. Lauderdale arrived, to fulfil his engagement with the “sparkling” young widow. He was received with the utmost pleasure by his old friends and acquaintances, and welcomed with cordial hospitality by Colonel Ashley. The next week witnessed two bridals. Mr. Lauderdale and Mrs. Vivian were married at Ashley Hall, by the pastor of the parish; and at the same time and place, by the same minister, Mark Sutherland and Rosalie Vivian were united in that bond that only death can sever. The next day there were two departures: Mr. and Mrs. Lauderdale bade an affectionate adieu to their friends, and set out for their palace home in the South; and Mark Sutherland, and Rosalie, his wife, departed for their log cabin in the West. CHAPTER XIX. THE JOURNEY. “If any two creatures grew into one, They shall do more than the world has done; Tho’ each apart were never so weak, Yet vainly thro’ the world would you seek For the knowledge and the might Which, in such union, grew their right.”—_Browning._ “Rosalie, my own blessed wife, you spoke the truth, or, rather, you applied it fitly—‘out of the heart are the issues of life!’ I feel and recognize it now. It is with far different emotions that I tread this deck, that bears us on to the great West, to those which oppressed and discouraged my soul two years ago. Then, dearest, I went forth alone, unloved, unloving; now your form hangs upon my arm, not an incumbrance, but a source of strength and joy. But, O Rosalie, how is it—how _will_ it be with you? Can you love the wild West as you love your own sunny South?” “‘Westward the star of empire wends its way.’ Who can look upon the shores of this great river, and note the many thriving new villages, without joyfully perceiving that? The South is a beautiful, a luxuriant region, where, ‘lapped in Elysium,’ you may dream your soul away; but the West is a magnificently vigorous land, whose clarion voice summons you to action. The South might be illustrated by a beautiful epicurienne, like India—the West only by a vigorous young Titan, like”—— “Whom?” “Mark Sutherland!” answered Rosalie, with her eyes sparkling with delight.