They had no reserves, these two. Queenie would tell him all her innocent thoughts--how lonely she had felt when she had seen him and Dora together, and how she had watched, night after night, for the red flicker of his cigar as he walked underneath the plane-trees; and Garth listened to her, and though he said very little in reply Queenie was perfectly content. For day by day the sweet conviction came to her that she was growing deeper into her lover's heart, that the sympathy between them was ever greater; their delight in each other's presence was quiet but intense; speech seemed unnecessary to them, they understood each other without a word. When two months had passed, and Queenie announced her intention of going to Carlisle and taking up her abode for the present with Caleb Runciman, he let her go almost without a word, though the sunshine seemed to die out of the old house with her presence; and when Langley would have remonstrated he silenced her at once. "She thinks it will be best, and perhaps she is right. Of course we shall have a dull winter, but it will be worse for her, shut up with that old man; but in the spring she has promised things shall be as I wish." And a flush crossed Garth's handsome face as he spoke, for the thought of bringing home his wife was very sweet and sacred to the young man. So Queenie spent the long winter months in the narrow little house in the High Street, with only Caleb and Molly. But it was not such a dull life after all. Friends came over from Hepshaw to see her--Faith Stewart, and Miss Cosie, and now and then Langley and Cathy, and every week brought Garth. Queenie and he would take long walks together. How she loved to show him her old haunts--Granite-Lodge, and the Close, and her favorite nook in the Cathedral! Now and then they would walk over to the castle where poor Mary Queen of Scots had been incarcerated, and gaze up at the little window out of which Fergus Vich Ian Vohr used to look. The sentries would look after them as they strolled across the place--the tall, good-looking fellow, with the slight girl wrapped in furs beside him. "What a color you have, my Queen! and how bright your eyes are!" he would say, for, half in jest and half in loving reality, he often called her "my Queen," and she would look up and smile, well pleased that she had found favor in his eyes. And so one day in the early spring, when the violets and crocuses were growing on Emmie's grave, there was a quiet wedding at Carlisle, and Queenie became Garth Clayton's wife. It was a very quiet wedding, only Langley and Cathy and Ted were there, and Mr. Logan came over to marry them. She had worn bridal-white, but after the ceremony she had resumed her mourning. "Garth did not mind," she said, "and she was unwilling to put it off unless he wished it."