The young bride and groom had bowed their heads during this benediction, and at its close responded with a silent, heartfelt amen. They then left the cabin. If the minister of God grievously erred in performing this secret marriage ceremony, he was soon called to account for it; the old man died that night. As Mr. and Mrs. Fairfax left the cabin, they perceived Kate Kavanagh, on her little rough-coated mountain pony, coming straight down into the glen—her sure-footed little animal treading with perfect security the precipitous descent down which they had been obliged to clamber. Kate was looking very pale and care-worn, so that her ponderous abutting forehead, in its pallor, reminded Frank of a barebleached cliff. And, indeed, he thought that Kate’s face looked more like that of an anxious politician, with the affairs of a nation on his shoulders, than of a grieved girl. But this was the fault of her marked features. But little time or thought had Mr. Fairfax to bestow upon the mountain-girl; so as soon as he caught sight of her, he turned in another direction, to avoid being recognized, saying— “By all that’s fatal, my dearest love, we were near being detected! And by all that’s fortunate, we have escaped! Come, this way, we will take a stroll down the glen and into the forest for a little while, until this girl is clear of the way.” “Oh, but it will delay us so much, I shall not have time to go to Hardbargain, and assist Aunt Clifton, and get back home to dinner, as I promised!” “_My dear!_” said Frank, reproachfully, “do you grudge me these last few hours of your society, when we are about to be separated so far and so long? Besides, you know you are my own dear wife now. Will you refuse?” “No, no, I cannot! But, oh, let me return to father—my dear, fond, confiding father,—as soon as I promised! Let me keep the word of promise to his ear, if I have broken it to his hope!” cried Zuleime, bursting into a passion of tears.