uneasy sensation in my mind. It was a consolation to me to feel
the reassuring pressure of my husband's hand. It was an
indescribable relief to hear my uncle's hearty voice wishing me a
happy life at parting. The good man had left his north-country
Vicarage (my home since the death of my parents) expressly to
read the service at my marriage; and he and my aunt had arranged
to return by the mid-day train. He folded me in his great strong
arms, and he gave me a kiss which must certainly have been heard
by the idlers waiting for the bride and bridegroom outside the
church door.

"I wish you health and happiness, my love, with all my heart. You
are old enough to choose for yourself, and--no offense, Mr.
Woodville, you and I are new friends--and I pray God, Valeria, it
may turn out that you have chosen well. Our house will be dreary
enough without you; but I don't complain, my dear. On the
contrary, if this change in your life makes you happier, I
rejoice. Come, come! don't cry, or you will set your aunt
off--and it's no joke at her time of life. Besides, crying will
spoil your beauty. Dry your eyes and look in the glass there, and
you will see that I am right. Good-by, child--and God bless you!"

He tucked my aunt under his arm, and hurried out. My heart sank a
little, dearly as I loved my husband, when I had seen the last of
the true friend and protector of my maiden days.

The parting with old Benjamin came next. "I wish you well, my
dear; don't forget me," was all he said. But the old days at home
came back on me at those few words. Benjamin always dined with us
on Sundays in my father's time, and always brought some little