On hearing the name Alina, Peregrine naturally reverted to his old attendant, and he felt exactly as if a wind-mill were going round in his head.
The strange Alina now took the kindest and most gracious leave of the family, while the bookbinder, from pure wonder and respect, could only stammer out a something unintelligible; but the children made as if they had been long acquainted with her, and the wife said, "Such a kind, handsome man as you are, Mr. Tyss, well deserves to have so kind and handsome a bride, who, even at this hour, assists him in doing acts of benevolence. I congratulate you with all my heart."—The strange lady thanked her with emotion, protesting that the day of her wedding should also be a day of festival to them; and then, strictly refusing all attendance, took a taper from the Christmas table to light herself down the stairs.
It is easy to imagine the feelings of Peregrine at all this, on whose arm she leant.—"Accompany me, Mr. Tyss,"—that is,—he thought within
