"Sit down," said aunt Hannah formally, and in a suppressed voice, as if they had been invited to a funeral. Then as the party ranged themselves in the stiff, wooden chairs, chilled by the silence and gravity of everything they saw, aunt Hannah drew close to Joseph, who sat by Mary, and said to them both in a serious gentle way: "Have faith in me, children." "We have, we have!" they murmured together with a firmer clasp of the hands. "Remember I have promised, now be ready!" They both began to tremble, and a thrill of strange delight ran from frame to frame, kindling its way through their clasped fingers. Aunt Hannah turned towards her guests, her upright figure took an air of dignity, her dark eyes lighted up and scanned the faces of her guests firmly, they dwelt longer upon the withered features of Mrs. Farnham, and a cold smile crept over her lips as she said, "We have invited you to a wedding. It is now time, Joseph, Mary!" The young couple stood up, still holding each other by the hands. The ceremony commenced, and it was remarkable that when the clergyman came to that portion which commands any one that can make objections to render them then, or henceforth hold his peace, aunt Hannah held up her hand that he might pause, and stepping in front of Mrs. Farnham, said in a low stern voice, "Have you any objections?" "_Me_!" exclaimed the lady with a sneer. "What do I care about them!" "Then you are willing that the ceremony goes on?" persisted the singular woman, without a change of voice or attitude. "What earthly objection can I have? of course the ceremony may go on, what are these people to me?" The ceremony went on, and with a deep breath of such joy as few human beings ever know, the husband and wife sat down, almost faint with excess of emotion. Isabel Chester had been sitting apart from the group, passive and feeble, but now and then lifting her great mournful eyes with a look of unuttered misery to the face of young Farnham. The first of these eloquent glances brought him to her side. "Isabel, I will give up all, I came to renounce everything but you," he whispered. She shook her head mournfully and glanced with a shudder towards Mrs. Farnham. "Poor or rich I cannot marry her son. It may kill me, but my oath, my oath! let me rest, let me rest"-- She drew her hand wearily across her forehead and her bright eyes filled with tears. "But you are sorry for this oath, my Isabel?" "Sorry, it is killing me." He looked down upon the white folds of her muslin wrapper, brightened as they were by the crimson glow of a dressing-gown that flowed over it. He saw how thin she had grown, how like wax her delicate hand lay upon the crimson of her dress, and how mournfully large her eyes had become. "This shall not be, it is madness!" he exclaimed aloud and passionately. "Mother I"-- "Hush!" said aunt Hannah, silencing him with her uplifted hand, "let _me_ speak!"