Blakely and Miss Mary Taylor came next; she wore a gray silk of rare modern pattern. The recollection of the wedding service that he had promised to perform for Charles Taylor and Janey Brewster caused the pastor’s voice to be subdued now as he read; how had that contemplated union ended; the pastor was thinking it over now. This one was over, the promises made, the register signed and parson Davis stepped before them and took the hand of Martha. “I pray God that your union may be a happy one; that rests in a great degree with you; Mark Blakely, take care of her,” her eyes filled with tears, but Blakely grasped his hand warmly and said: “I will! I will.” “Let me bless you both, Blakely,” broke in the quiet voice of Charles Taylor. “It may be that I shall not see you again.” “Oh! but we shall meet again, you must not die yet,” exclaimed Mark Blakely with feverish eagerness. “My friend I would rather part with the whole world, save Martha than with you.” Their hands lingered together and separated. They reached the carriage, notwithstanding the crowd pushed and danced around it, the placing in of Martha, and Mark taking his seat beside her, seemed to be but the work of a moment, so quickly was it done, and Mark Blakely, a pleasant smile upon his face, bowed to the shouts on either side as the carriage wended its way through the crowd, not until it had got into clear ground did the postillions put their horses to a canter, and the bride and groom were fairly on their bridal tour. There was more ceremony needed to place the ladies in the other carriages. Miss Taylor’s skirts in their extensive richness took five minutes to arrange themselves, ere a space could be found for Charles beside her, the footman held the door for him, the other carriages drove up in order and were driven quietly away, after having been filled with fair ladies and their escorts. CHAPTER X. A PEACEFUL HOUR.