“Poor bit things, not daring to move,” said Marion. “But that was a strange thing to say over and over: he said nothing about that in his sermon, but just how clever the man was for his purpose, though it was not a good purpose. But Matthew is of opinion that it’s a dangerous thing to treat the parables in that way.” “And how should Matthew know better than my father?” cried Elsie, in indignation. “He may just keep his opinion; I’m of the same opinion as papa.” “It is not of much consequence what your opinion is,” said Marion, imperturbably; “but Matthew has been very well instructed, and he has all the new lights upon things, and the exegesis and all that, which was not so advanced in my father’s day. But it was a fine sermon,” she added, with an approving nod, “though maybe dangerous to the ignorant, which was all we ever said.” As for Elsie, she ceased altogether to think of the mystery of that afternoon, and the sound of her father’s voice--which was such as she had never heard before--in her hot indignation against Matthew, who dared to be of a different opinion from papa. CHAPTER VII. THE FIRST MARRIAGE IN THE FAMILY. Marion’s marriage took place in the summer, at the very crown of the year. And it was a very fine wedding in its way, according to the fashion of the times. Nobody in Scotland thought of going to church for this ceremony, which took place in the bride’s home, in the drawing-room upstairs, which was the largest room in the house, and as full as it could be with wedding-guests. There were two bridesmaids, Elsie and a sister of Matthew’s, whose mission, however, was unimportant in the circumstances, unless, indeed, when it happened to be the duty of one of them to accompany the bride and bridegroom, with the aid of the best man, upon their wedding-tour. This curious arrangement had never been thought of in Marion’s case, for no wedding-tour was contemplated. The wedding pair were to proceed at once to their own quiet manse, somewhere in the centre of Fife, where they could travel comfortably in a post-chaise; and there they were disposed of for life, with no further fuss. There were many things, indeed, wanting in this wedding which are indispensable now. There were, for example, no wedding-presents, or at least very few, some pieces of silver of the massive order, a heavy tea-service, which was indeed a “testimonial” from those who had profited by the Rev. Matthew’s services, in his previous sphere, and a number of pretty things sent by Willie, such as used to be sent from India by all the absent sons, pieces of Indian muslin, embroidered and spangled (over which Mrs. Buchanan had held up her hands, wondering what in the world Marion could do with them), and shawls, one of them heavy with gold embroidery, about which the same thing might be said. Willie had been by this time about eighteen months in India, and was already acquainted with all the ways of it, his mother believed. And he sent