“It means, mother, that Mr. Dawn refused to give me Cinthia, so we took the bit between our teeth and ran away. But how came you here? You did not pursue us, did you, dear?” “No, no; for I did not dream of this. I made up my mind last night to come to Washington on a little--business trip while you were away. When--when--did you arrive?” “Just a few minutes ago. And I thought we had better get married before we registered, or even had breakfast, for fear Mr. Dawn might be on our track.” “We must have traveled on the same train. How strange we did not meet--how fortunate that we meet now!” she cried, with almost tragic emphasis. “Yes, mother, for now you can witness our marriage and give us your blessing. Cinthia, dear, shake hands with my mother.” Cinthia put out a little trembling hand, and looked timidly out of the corner of her drooping eyes at the beautiful lady. She met a cold glance, and the hand that just touched hers without the slightest pressure was icy. “Are you ready now?” asked the minister, again opening his book. “Yes,” answered Arthur, taking Cinthia’s hand, and turning to him eagerly. But there came a low, heart-wrung cry from the mother’s lips: “_Wait!_” All turned toward her in surprise. Her eyes were like coals of fire, her face wore a bluish pallor, her very lips were white as she uttered, hoarsely: “I beg pardon, but the ceremony must not go on--until--until--I speak--to--Arthur!” Every word came jerkily between the pallid lips, and her outstretched hand clutched Arthur’s arm. “Come with me--let me speak to you alone!” she implored. Every one realized that she was laboring under the most terrible agitation. It seemed plain to all that she meant to forbid the marriage. Arthur frowned at her--the son whose wishes she had never thwarted--and exclaimed, impatiently: “Can you not wait till the ceremony is over? Remember, Mr. Dawn may come at any moment.” “No--I can not wait! Come,” eagerly, “I will not detain you long. Miss Dawn, will you not wait here just a few moments while--I--I--tell Arthur--the truth?” “Go, Arthur,” answered the girl, faintly; and she sunk upon a chair, trembling in every limb, sure in her heart that something was going to happen. Mrs. Varian was angry with her--she was sure. How coldly she had looked at her, how reluctantly she had touched her hand with icy fingers! Mrs. Varian dragged Arthur away with her to her own room, and then the genial host said kindly, in sympathy for the suffering girl: “I will send a maid to show you to a room to rest, Miss Dawn, while you are waiting for your friends.” “Oh, I thank you,” she answered, gratefully, desperately glad to be alone. When she was gone, the minister said, uneasily: “I do not believe there is any use in my waiting. There will be no marriage if that proud Mrs. Varian can have her own way.”