At this terrible threat, and with the fear of bed in broad daylight (and on such a morning too) before her eyes, Jenny began to whimper--a sound which so moved the pity of the bride-elect, that before the awful sentence could be carried into execution a sweet face, shrouded with waving masses of light brown hair, made its appearance at the half-opened door; and Honor, pressing the soft lips, that were a trifle less rosy than their wont, on Jenny’s upturned forehead, said tenderly, “Do what mother tells you, my sweetie. It won’t be long now before it’s breakfast-time. And, Mrs. Clay, please not to think the children have disturbed me, for I have been up and about for ever so long. What a beautiful morning it is! Such a sunrise! I have been looking at it over the Eastheigh Hills; and to think that this is the last time, the very last time, that I shall ever sit at this dear little window, and hear the birds singing in the trees, and the cows, with old Barbara after them in her blue petticoat, coming in to be milked!” The girl was in a melting mood that bright spring morning, for she brushed a tear from her long lashes, when Mrs. Clay, in motherly fashion, told her what a foolish child she was to be low-spirited on her wedding morning. “It wasn’t like Honor,” she said, “to be down-hearted.” And the good woman was right there, for the girl’s moods were changeful as an April sky, and in another moment, stirred by a sudden memory, the sweet lips were parted by a smile. “I saw Joe Gregg,” she said, “come across the meadow just now, with such a coat on his back! The tails trailing on the ground, and a nosegay as big as his head stuck in his waistcoat! I hope he won’t be very absurd at church, and make us laugh when we ought to be solemn.” “Foolish fellow!” rejoined Mrs. Clay, laughing heartily as the idea of the village idiot, one of the most harmless of his unfortunate kind, obtruding himself and his hatchet-face and uncouth figure at the marriage ceremony, presented itself to her mental vision. “And now, my dear,” she added sensibly, “for goodness’ sake do put your nightcap on again, and go to bed; you’ll be as pale else, when John sees you, as if you’d had an illness; and white, you know, wants a colour. It’s very trying, as I’ve always said, to the skin, is white;” and kind-hearted Mrs. Clay, after this useful warning to the girl whom she had grown to love almost as a daughter, retired to her own apartment, and silence once more reigned throughout the narrow corridor. The smile faded from Honor’s face as she returned to the low seat beside the open window, and allowed her eyes again to wander over the fair scene without. Over the broad meadows, stretching eastwards towards the Paddocks, a filmy haze, light as the bridal veil of a disembodied spirit, was lingering still--lingering till the jocund god of day, “rejoicing as a bridegroom to run his course,” should lift it softly from fair Nature’s face.