“I will not be gone long. I shall be back in three weeks at farthest. I do not like to leave him at his age. He is past seventy. His time may be short on earth. How can I tell? That was the reason why I would not go to Europe for my wedding tour. But oh, Drusilla, I did not know how much I loved my dear grandfather until this day. And to think that in the course of nature I _must_ lose him some day, and may lose him soon,” said Anna, weeping afresh. “My darling Anna, your grandfather is a very strong and hale old man; his habits are regular and temperate, and his life quiet and wholesome. He is likely to live twenty or thirty years longer,” answered Drusilla, cheerily. “Heaven grant it,” fervently breathed Anna. And then she turned and went down-stairs, followed by Drusilla. “Good-by, my darling. I will kiss you here. I must save the last one for my dear grandfather,” said Anna, embracing her friend at the foot of the stairs. “Good-by, and Heaven bless you!” responded Drusilla, heartily. Anna went forward to General Lyon, who took her in his arms, and smiling, kissed and blessed her. And his last words, as he gave her into the charge of her husband, were cheerful: “You will have a delightful run by moonlight up the bay, my dear,” he said. Anna, striving to keep back her tears, let Dick lead her to the carriage, and place her in it. He immediately followed, and seated himself by her side. Old Jacob cracked his whip, and the horses started. So quickly and quietly had this little scene passed, that the carriage was bowling along the avenue before the company on the lawn suspected what was being done. Then, eager whispers of: “The bride is going! the bride is going!” ran through the crowd. And quadrilles were suddenly broken up, and dancers came flocking to the door, knowing that they were too late to bid her good-by, yet still exclaiming to each other: “The bride is going! the bride is going!” “The bride is _gone_, my dear young friends,” said General Lyon, kindly, “but she leaves me to make her adieus, and to pray you not to let her departure interrupt your enjoyment. The bride and bridegroom have to meet the Washington steamer that passes the Stormy Petrel landing at about nine o’clock. Now, ‘on with the dance!’” And the young folks immediately took the old gentleman at his word, and the music struck up, and the dancing recommenced. And so Anna and Dick departed for Washington city on their way to New York. Much discussion had been held on the subject of that marriage tour. Many suggestions had been made. Europe had been mentioned. But Anna had scouted _that_ idea. “None but a lunatic,” she had said, “would ever think of taking a sea voyage, and risking sea-sickness in the honeymoon.” And for her part she positively declined putting Dick’s love to so severe a test in the earliest days of their married life.