“There, there, Miss Joe, that will do,” interrupted Mrs. Garnet, to whom these severe reflections were deeply painful. “Never, Miss Joe, cast unnecessary reproach upon the memory of the dumb, defenseless dead.” “I won’t. I am sure if the Lord pardons him, we can. I won’t say any more. Only if you want to know all the particulars, you see, you can read the letters in the little yellow hair trunk. And that’s the end of the story; and now I know the coffee is spoiled.” “Garnet, you have a right to blush for your parentage—but let it be a blush of enthusiasm, for never have I heard of two such disinterested souls,” said Dr. Hardcastle, shaking her hand with cordial sympathy. Hugh Hutton said nothing as yet, but stood by her, pouring all his earnest, loving soul through the gaze he fixed upon her face. And she—down her cheeks the tears had poured like rain. But now that copious and refreshing shower was over and the sun of gladness shone out again, Garnet smiled brightly, while yet the tears sparkled like rain-drops on her ringlets. Mrs. Hardcastle, with her cheerful blooming expression, was standing behind her quietly rearranging the disordered wreath and veil. Mrs. Garnet went to the door of the adjoining room, and beckoned the two young ladies who were to act as bridesmaids. Dr. Hardcastle opened the hall door and admitted the groomsmen, who entered and gave their arms to the young bridesmaids. Hugh Hutton took the hand of Garnet, and, when she arose, Elsie arranged the folds of her robe, and whispered: “Never mind if you are very pale and agitated, dear; it is not so unbefitting a bride—besides, your veil is down, you know.” The bridal party moved onward downstairs. As Dr. Hardcastle followed with his wife, he turned to her with an arch look, and whispered: “My dear Elsie, there is an old acquaintance of yours below stairs.” “Many of them, I suspect.” “Yes, but this one is an uninvited, unexpected, but most welcome guest.” “Whom?” “The Honorable Ulysses Roebuck!” “‘The Honorable Ulysses Roebuck!’ I remember ‘Marse Useless,’ as the negroes used to call him; but how on earth became he ‘Honorable’?” Dr. Hardcastle shrugged his shoulders, elevated his eyebrows with a queer smile, and answered: “I really suppose just as more of our Honorables become so. He failed at everything useful, went to a distant part of the State, took to politics, made stump-speeches ‘full of sound and fury, signifying nothing’ and got himself sent to Congress. After an absence of ten years he has just now revisited his native neighborhood. He reached Point Pleasant by the early boat this morning, and, finding that the family were all here, he followed them, and is here also.” “And his old ladylove, who jilted him to marry my father, and lost both, and who must be now near twenty-eight years of age—how did she receive him? I should like to have seen that meeting!”