It was only when the little party, Marjorie and Stephen's sister, her maid of honor, and Stephen and Sergeant Griffin, his best man, had settled down into the coach, that Marjorie for the first time became composed. A great sigh of relief escaped from her as she sat back, her bouquet in her hand, and looked at the dispersing crowd. She could not tell yet whether she was happy or not; the excitement had not subsided enough to allow her to regain her self-possession and equanimity. Stephen was by her side. That was about all she knew,--or cared. Stephen was in his characteristically reticent mood. Already had he observed that he would have endured another Valley Forge with greater pleasure than the ordeal of a wedding ceremony. Still he was nicely dressed for the occasion, wearing for the first time a new full dress uniform of buff and blue. The interested spectator might have discerned, too, that he wore for the first time a new insignia of rank; for he was now a Major of the Continental Army, having received that promotion, upon the recommendation of His Excellency, for distinguished service, together with a warm message of congratulation upon his approaching marriage. Nevertheless he was unmoved through it all, betraying but one concern, and that was administration to the most trivial wants of his blushing and timid bride. It was the time of joy, of pure, unalloyed joy, yet he could not banish altogether from his mind the memories of the past two years, years crowded with events in his life and that of his beloved. There was, indeed, much to be thankful for, and notwithstanding his exceedingly great glee and the day of gladness which had dawned for him flooding his heart with exultation and complacent satisfaction, still a prayer of praise poured forth from his lips to the Giver of every best and perfect gift.