traveling, and not at all for a crowded ceremony at St. George's in
Hanover Square, with all the tiresome formalities afterwards. I
used to ride over to the Grange every day, and very often Margaret
would come with her aunt and some of her cousins to the Castle. I
was suspicious of my own taste, and was only too glad to let her
have her way about the alterations and improvements in our home.

We were to be married on the thirtieth of July, and on the evening
of the twenty-eighth Margaret drove over with some of the Bluebell
party. In the long summer twilight we all went out into the
garden. Naturally enough, Margaret and I were left to ourselves,
and we wandered down by the marble basins.

"It is an odd coincidence," I said; "it was on this very night last
year that I first saw you."

"Considering that it is the month of July," answered Margaret with
a laugh, "and that we have been here almost every day, I don't
think the coincidence is so extraordinary, after all."

"No, dear," said I, "I suppose not. I don't know why it struck me.
We shall very likely be here a year from today, and a year from
that. The odd thing, when I think of it, is that you should be
here at all. But my luck has turned. I ought not to think
anything odd that happens now that I have you. It is all sure to
be good."

"A slight change in your ideas since that remarkable performance of
yours in Paris," said Margaret. "Do you know, I thought you were
the most extraordinary man I had ever met."