It was a brilliant frosty day on which the invitation was accepted. Mr.
Ives laughingly included Mary Jones in the little party, asserting that
two and two would be a fairer division of company.
Mary bridled and blushed and threw a tender glance at him from behind
her fan, and the parson thought to himself that after all he was not old
yet.
In every life there is perhaps one day that stands out from the others
as the happiest day--one day in which the cup of joy seems full to the
brim; it is not generally a day of powerful emotions, but of unbroken
peace, sunshine, love, sweetness and the glory of life.
Such a day had dawned for fair Betty Ives. It was not so unbroken for
her betrothed: now and then a look of care overcast his brow, and now
and then his hands clenched themselves with a slight nervous movement.
All through the day he paid her a courtship so tender, so deferential,
so loving, it might have been a votary addressing his saint, a courtier
waiting on his queen; and as the hour advanced, and the time of
departure drew near, his attentions became yet more tender, more
wistful.
They visited the horses and the dogs, gave bread to the shy young
gazelle that John was endeavouring to tame, to offer to his bride. Then
he suddenly drew her aside, and while Mr. Ives and Mary Jones strolled
onwards to the garden, he took a key from his pocket, and unlocked the
door of a loose box which he had passed by hitherto.
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