It was a glad—a happy reunion—a night that was long remembered.
Just one week after the reunion, the little party was seated in Haverland's home, composed of Ina, Seth Jones, the woodman, Mrs. Haverland, and Mary. Seth sat in one comer conversing with Ina, while the other three were also together. There was a happy look upon each face. Even the sweet melancholy beauty of Mary was lightened up by a smile. She was beautiful—queenly so. Her hair, black as night, was gathered behind, as if to restrain its tendency to curl; but in spite of this, a refractory one was constantly intruding itself. A faint color was visible in her cheeks, and her blue eye had in it something of a gleam of the common joy and peace.
Seth had remained most of the time with the woodman. Several times he had asked Mary Haverland to walk with him, and yet, upon each occasion, when about to start, he become painfully nervous and begged to be excused. And then his language was so different at times. Often he would converse with words so polished and well chosen, as to show unmistakably that he was a scholar. Perhaps the reader has noticed this discrepancy in his conversations. It attracted attention, and strengthened many in their belief that for some unknown reason he was playing a part.
At the present time, there was a nervousness in his manner; and, although he was holding a playful conversation with Ina, his eyes were constantly wandering to the face of Mary Haverland.
"And so you and Graham are going to be married to-morrow night?" he asked.
"You know, Seth, that we are. How many times are you going to ask me?"
"Do you love him?" he asked, looking her steadily in the face.
"What a question! I have always loved him, and always will."
"That's right; then marry him, for if man ever loved woman, be loves you. And, Alf, while I think of it," he spoke in a louder tone, "what has that big, red-haired fellow been hanging around here so much, for the last day or two?"
