"The day before he went away, I met him in the post-office, accidental, and he says: 'Miss Matilda, I've got somethin' for you if you'll accept it,' and he took me over to one side where there couldn't nobody see us, and he give me his tintype. And he says: 'I hope you'll always remember me, Miss Matilda. You'll promise not to forget me, won't you?' "And I promised," she resumed, "and I ain't. I've always remembered." There was a long silence, then Miss Matilda cleared her throat. "Light the candle, Rosemary, will you?" When the tiny flame appeared, Rosemary saw that the older woman's face was wet with unaccustomed tears. She reached down into the bosom of her dress and drew out a small packet, which she removed carefully from its many wrappings. "See," she said. [Sidenote: It Might Have Been] Rosemary leaned over to look at the pictured face. The heavy beard did not wholly conceal the sensitive, boyish mouth, and even the crude art had faithfully portrayed the dreamy, boyish eyes. "I want to ask you something," Aunt Matilda said, as she wrapped it up again. "You're going to be married yourself, now, and you'll know about such things. Do you think, if it hadn't been for Ma, it might have been--anything?" Rosemary put out the light. "I'm sure it would," she said, kindly. "Oh, Rosemary!" breathed the other, with a quick indrawing of the breath. "Are you truly sure?" "Truly," said Rosemary, very softly. Then she added, convincingly: "You know Alden's never been to see me but once, and I haven't even a tintype of him, and yet we're going to be married." "That's so. I hadn't thought of that. I guess you're right." Then she added, generously, "I'm glad you're goin' to be married, Rosemary, and I hope you'll be happy. You've got it comin' to you." "Thank you," said Rosemary, choking a little on the words. "Thank you, dear Aunt Matilda." Then someway, in the dark, their arms found each other and their lips met. XXV A Wedding [Sidenote: By the Sea] The air was crystalline and cool, yet soft, and full of a mysterious, spicy fragrance. Blue skies arched down at the vast curve of the horizon to meet a bluer sea. Snowy gulls swept lazily through the clear blue spaces, their hoarse crying softened into a weird music. Upon the dazzling reaches of white sand, Rosemary was walking with Alden. He had his arm around her and her face was turned toward his. He was radiant with youth and the joy of living. It was in the spring of his step upon the sand, the strong, muscular lines of his body, and, more than all, in his face. In his eyes were the strange, sweet fires that Rosemary had seen the day she was hidden in the thicket and saw him holding Edith in his arms. But it was all for her now, for Rosemary, and the past was as dead as though it had never been.