“I should die if I were parted from him now,” she sighed. “Of course I know that he would find me out some day, and then I should lose him forever. But I should have a little happiness first. It would not be so terrible to die of grief, having had my day first.” Then Molly would sob bitterly until she fell asleep upon her tearwet pillow. Truly the love to which she clung so desperately was not all unalloyed pleasure, but perhaps its element of uncertainty made it all the more precious. They went back to Ferndale, and Mrs. Barry, in the seventh heaven of delight, made preparations on a grand scale for a real old-fashioned country wedding. Invitations were sent out far and near to the friends of the family. A dozen cooks took possession of the kitchen and dining-room. Flowers were ordered from a New York florist. The old lady declared that her niece’s wedding should be the grandest that ever took place in Greenbrier County. * * * * * It was. A hundred guests danced at Molly Trueheart’s wedding with Cecil Laurens. Ferndale did not look like the “poky old hole” she had called it two months ago. By the aid of lights and flowers and music it was temporarily transformed into fairy-land. The trees were illuminated by picturesque Chinese lanterns. The old house in every corner was as bright as day, and the light glowed resplendently on the trailing lengths of Molly’s white satin bridal-dress as she came down the wide stairway almost an hour later than the time appointed, for at the very last her conscience had stung her so cruelly that she had hidden herself in a closet, from which she was dragged forth after vigilant search by her almost distracted aunt. “Louise Barry, what do you mean by such a caper? You’ve given me such a fright as I never had in my life! I’ve a mind to give you a good shaking!” she vociferated, excitedly, and Molly whimpered, faintly: “Please forgive me, Aunt Thalia. I--I was so frightened, I thought I’d rather not--” “Rather not _what_?” sharply. “Not--get--married,” sighed the delinquent, and Mrs. Barry burst out laughing. “What under the heavens makes girls so silly when they are going to be married?” she cried, and just then one of the bridesmaids tapped at the door. “Is the bride ready yet? It’s almost an hour past the time, and Mr. Laurens sent me to ask--” she began, but Mrs. Barry cut the sentence short by opening wide the door. “She’s ready. Tell the bridesmaids to come in,” she said; and then she whispered in Molly’s ear: “Behave yourself like a little lady now, and I’ll never tell Cecil that you were such a baby as to hide in the closet because you were afraid to have a husband.” “I’ll behave,” Molly answered, desperately; and so well did she keep her promise that Mrs. Barry had no occasion to tell her husband of that hour in which Molly’s good angel had been pleading for the right. CHAPTER XVI.