"What for, sir?" said the servant--and a very pretty blush came over her rather pretty face. "What for, sir? Why, sir--you know, sir--she went off, sir--on her--her--wedding-tower, sir." "Her WHAT!!!" cried Jack, wildly. "Her wedding-tower, sir," repeated the servant, in a faint voice. "Her wedding-tour!" cried Jack. "Her wedding-tour! Do you mean what you say? Is this a joke? What do you mean?" At this, which was spoken most vehemently by Jack, who was now in a state of frightful excitement, the servant turned pale and started back in fear--so I interposed. "Don't be at all alarmed," I said, kindly. "We merely want to know, you know, what you mean by saying it was a wedding-tour. What wedding? We want to know, you know." "Wedding, sir? Lor', sir! Yes, sir. This morning, sir. She was married, you know, sir." "MARRIED!" cried Jack, in a strange, wild voice. "This morning!" I exclaimed. "Lor', sir! Yes, sir," continued the maid, who was still a little frightened at the presence of such excited visitors. "This morning, sir. Early, sir. Six o'clock, sir. And they took the seven o'clock train, sir--for Montreal, you know, sir--and they talked of New York, sir." "_They_ talked? _They_? _Who_? _Married_! Who married her? The widow! Mrs. Finnimore! Married! Nonsense! And gone! What do you mean? Who was it?" The maid started back in fresh fear at Jack's terrible agitation. Terrible? I should rather think so. Imagine a criminal with the noose about his neck hearing a whisper going about that a pardon had arrived. Agitation? I should say that there was occasion for it Still, I didn't like to see that pretty servant-maid frightened out of her wits. So I interposed once more. "We merely want to know," said I, mildly, "who the gentleman was to whom your mistress was married this morning, and with whom she went to Montreal?" "Who, sir? Why, sir--it was the chaplain, sir--of the Bobtails, sir --the Rev. Mr. Trenaman." "THE CHAPLAIN!!!" cried Jack, with a strange voice that was somewhere between a shout and a sob. He turned to me. There was ecstasy on his face. His eyes were all aglow, and yet I could see in them the moisture of tears. He caught my hand in both of his. "Oh, Macrorie!" he faltered, "see here, old boy--it's too much--Louie --all right--at last--too much, you know." And the long and the short of it is, he nearly wrung my hand off. Then he turned to the servant-maid, and fumbling in his pockets drew out a handful of sovereigns-- "See here!" he said, "you glorious little thing! you princess of servant-maids! here's something for a new bonnet, you know, or any thing else yon fancy." And he forced the sovereigns into her hand. Then he wrung my hand again. Then he rushed wildly out. He flung some more sovereigns at the astonished coachman. Then he sprang into the carriage, and I followed. "Where shall I drive to, sir?" said the coachman. "To Colonel Berton's!" roared Jack. "Nonsense, Jack!" said I; "it's too early."