There was going to be another great day at Heath Hall; a breakfast, dinner, and ball. Such was Hagar’s will, and of course no one thought of opposing a bride in her honey-moon. Only old Cumbo swore in her wrath that before she would stay and cook for another such a “weddin’,” she would be “sold to Georgy;” which, in negro thought and dialect, expresses the very extremity of perdition. It was a great day at Heath Hall; the breakfast-table was set out under the shade between the rows of poplar trees, and it was loaded with the delicacies of the season, the peculiar delicacies of that favored neighborhood, game killed the day before, fresh fish, oysters, and soft crabs, caught that morning, &c., &c., &c. All the county, and—Captain Wilde were there, and after breakfast the company dispersed, and wandered over the house or grounds, or rowed out upon the bay at will. Hagar, Raymond, Sophie, and Captain Wilde were grouped upon the point of the promontory. The captain occasionally swept the whole expanse of the bay within range of the telescope he held to his eye, and dropped it with a sigh and a shake of the head. There was no sail in sight. “Have they not written to you, Mrs. Withers?” “No,” said Sophie, “not since Gusty left—we did not expect _that_; we expected them to hurry home with all possible expedition; oh, I grow so uneasy.” “Nay, do not be anxious, Sophie,” exclaimed Hagar, “if anything had happened you know that Gusty would have written.” “But I have been so fearful ever since that wreck,” sighed Sophie, paling. “That is one reason why _I_ am _not_ anxious,” said Hagar. “We have just had a wreck—such things do not occur frequently; that wreck will do for the next three or four years.” While she spoke, Tarquinius Superbus was seen strutting up the promontory from the hall; he came up to Sophie, and ducking his head by way of a salutation, said— “Mrs. Widders, madam, dere is an ’rival at de Hall, and Mrs. Buncombe, she ’quests you to come down.” “An arrival—have they breakfasted—who is it? Mrs. Green!” “It is Miss Aguilar and Mr. May, madam!” “Rosalia and Gusty! why did you not say so before, you stupid fellow!” exclaimed Hagar, “how could they have come, Sophie? They must have dropped from the sky. How did they come, Tarquin?” “In de poshay, Miss Rose, she ’fraid o’ water.” “Ah, that was it,” said Hagar, “I knew it was some of Rosalia’s cowardice and selfishness that has given you all this uneasiness, Sophie!” But Sophie was hurrying on, too happy to speak, far too happy. They reached the Hall. “Where is Rosalia? Where is she?” inquired Sophie, anxiously hurrying along in front of her party.