“I saw it. When he first entered the saloon he was caught in the arms of Judge Jacky, who ran to him and rapturously embraced him, overwhelming him with welcomes. Then, when released from the old gentleman’s arms, he shook hands with all his friends and acquaintances, looking uneasily around the room all the while, as if in search of someone else. At last his flying glances alighted on the distant form of Ambrosia, standing near the fireplace. He made her a formal bow, which she acknowledged by a cold courtesy!” “After a lover’s quarrel and a separation of ten years! That is a first-rate sign, Magnus; I should not wonder if he had cherished her image in his heart through all those years.” “Well, they had not even spoken when I came away.” “Better and better! I shall not be surprised if he propose for her before the day is over.” They had now reached the saloon where the bridal party were already ranging themselves before the clergyman, who was no other than our oldest friend, the Rev. Milton Sinclair. “See!” whispered Dr. Hardcastle, pointing to where Miss Wylie sat gloomily at one end of the room, and Mr. Roebuck morosely at the other; “see! I do not believe they have spoken yet.” “I believe they’ll be married in a week!” laughed Elsie. But the clergyman had opened his book, the ceremony was about to commence, and all became silent and profoundly attentive while it progressed. It was over, and friends crowded around to offer their congratulations to the newly-married pair. In the crowd Ulysses Roebuck, Mrs. Hardcastle, and Ambrosia Wylie got pressed together. “I declare!” exclaimed Elsie, with her cheerful, ringing tones, “if here are not two of my old, old playmates!” And seizing a hand of each, she shook them heartily; then joining those two hands in hers, she said, “Let me be the mediator. Be friends, as you long to be!” and slipped away, leaving them together. “Shall we be friends? Shall we be more to each other, Ambrosia?” said Ulysses, pressing her hand. “Yes; if you can forgive the infidelity caused by ambition, and expiated by whole years of suffering!” “I have waited for you ten years, Ambrosia. I should think that an answer. Come! let’s go to the bay window and talk over old times!” “Not now; the company are going in to breakfast,” replied Ambrosia, taking his arm; and they followed in the wake of the foremost. Mrs. Garnet approached the clergyman, who still lingered as if lost in abstraction. “Mr. Sinclair,” she said, “it gives me great happiness to see you back here and settled in our parish. I am much pleased, also, to welcome you to our house. The company have gone in to breakfast; will you come?” Mr. Sinclair bowed in grave silence, gave the lady his arm, and they followed the others.