After the depression following the first shock, Mr Brandon endeavored to stiffen himself. There was a great deal of pride in him, and if he was obliged to go to the altar, he did not wish his old friends to suppose that he was going there to be sacrificed. He had brought this dreadful thing upon himself, but he would try to stand up like a man, and bear it; and, after all, it might not be for long; the Widow Keswick was a good deal older than he was. Other thoughts occasionally came to comfort him; she could not make him continually live with her, and he had plans for visits to Richmond, and even to New York; and, better than that, she might want to spend a good deal of time at her own farm. "For the sake of my name, and my niece," he said to himself, "I must bear it like a man." And, in answer to an earnest adjuration, Colonel Pinckney Macon solemnly promised that he would never reveal, to man or woman, that his friend did not marry the Widow Keswick entirely of his own wish and accord. It was the desire of Mrs Keswick that the marriage, although conducted in church, should be very simple in its arrangements. There would be no bridesmaids or groomsmen; no flowers; no breakfast; and the couple would be dressed in travelling costume. The friends of the old lady persuaded her to make considerable changes in her attire, and a costume was speedily prepared, which, while it suggested the fashions of the present day, was also calculated to recall reminiscences of those of a quarter of a century ago. This simplicity was the only thing connected with the affair which satisfied Mr Brandon, and he would have been glad to have the marriage entirely private, with no more witnesses than the law demanded. But to this Mrs Keswick would not consent. She wanted to have her former friends about her. Accordingly, the church was pretty well filled with old colonels, old majors, old generals, and old judges, with their wives and their sisters, and, in a few cases, their daughters. All the elderly people in Richmond, who, in the days of their youth, had known the gay Miss Matty Pettigrew, and the handsome Bob Brandon, felt a certain rejuvenation of spirit as they went to the wedding of the couple, who had once been these two. The old lady looked full of life and vigor, and, despite the circumstances, Mr Brandon preserved a good deal of his usual manly deportment. But, when in the course of the marriage service, the clergyman came to the question in which the bride-groom was asked if he would have this woman to be his wedded wife, to love and keep her for the rest of their lives, the answer, "I will," came forth in a feeble tone, which was not wholly divested of a tinge of despondency.