Oh the wordless, entreating beauty of those eyes! "My queen, my own, you will never try again." "Never!" with a long, delicious, sobbing breath. "Why are you so irresistibly, so powerfully strong, Jack? Do you know,--you _must_ know how wicked I have been! If you cast me out, it would only be a proper punishment. I don't mean that my lips or my hands are blurred with other men's kisses. I never could endure that," shuddering. "But they laid down their hearts, and I walked over them: they were weak, and I was strong! And one night I tried"--her voice sank to a beseeching, half-shamed murmur. "Yes," he gave a pure, genial laugh, rich in his own sustaining strength. "You would have broken my heart, your own too; for I think, even then, you loved me." "I surely have never been indifferent. It was either love or hate. Do you remember the first evening I saw you in the parlor yonder?" She learned ere long, that he had never forgotten any thing; but the depth and perfectness of his love she could not learn in a day. If Jack Darcy had been patient hitherto, that grand quality seemed suddenly exhausted. He absolutely hurried her into a marriage,--hurried Sylvie too, who wanted the courtship to proceed with measured, golden steps. "As if it were not to be a courtship all one's life!" said radiant Jack. "Now the moments break in the middle, there are tangled ends, and endless beginnings, and one can hardly remember where one left off. Were you sorry to go to Fred?" "Why, no!" with wide-open, surprised eyes. He carried the day at last, and September was appointed. They would be married in the old church. Mrs. Minor responded to the tidings by a visit. She had treasured up a great many things to say to Irene; but for once she was quite overwhelmed, and her sneers and patronage fell to the ground. Though she did remark to her mother,-- "Of course I _am_ disappointed that Irene, with her face and style, has not done any better; but you cannot expect much after one passes twenty. Mr. Darcy has improved certainly, and Irene is not as exclusive as we older girls were. It is a great pity she did not go out to Gertrude." For George Eastman, with a cat-like propensity, always came down on his feet. He was now at the flood-tide of prosperity--on other people's money. Mrs. Eastman was regal in velvets, sables, and diamonds, queening it at St. Petersburg. Some day there might be a crash again, but they would be well out of the way. Miss Lawrence would have no diamonds, and no show; but she was dazzling in her radiant loveliness; and, if Jack was not handsome, his superb manliness redeemed him. Hope Mills took a holiday. All Yerbury went, it seemed; and those who could not get in remained outside for a glimpse. Sylvie and Fred leaned over the registry in the vestry-room. In a bold hand the bridegroom had written, "John Beaumanoir Darcy." "A compliment to Irene's pride," laughed Sylvie. "The most aristocratic name of them all!"