perhaps-had told him of his last meeting with Clayton, and that,
during the absence of the latter, some arrangements for the
wedding had been made, even by Easter, who in her trusting
innocence had perhaps never thought of any other end to their
relations. In consequence, there was an unprecedented stir among
the mountaineers. The marriage of a citizen with a " furriner "
was an unprecedented event, and the old mountaineer, who began
to take some pride in the alliance, emphasized it at every
opportunity.

At the mines Clayton's constant visits to the mountain were
known to everybody, but little attention had been paid to them.
Now, however, when the rumor of the wedding seemed confirmed
by his return and his silence, every one was alert with a curiosity
so frankly shown that he soon became eager to get away from the
mountains. Accordingly, he made known his wish to Easter's
parents that the marriage should take place as soon as possible.
Both received the suggestion with silent assent. Then had followed many difficulties. Only as a great concession to the ideas and customs of " fur-riners" would the self-willed old mountaineer agree that the ceremony should take place at night, and that after the supper and the dance, the two should leave Jellico at daybreak. Mountain marriages were solemnized in the daytime, and wedding journeys were unknown. The old man did not understand why Clayton should wish to leave the mountains, and the haste of the latter seemed to give him great offence. When Clayton had ventured to suggest, instead, that the marriage should be quiet, and that he and Easter should remain on the mountain a few days before leaving, he fumed with anger; and thereafter any suggestion from the young engineer was met with a suspicion that looked ominous. Raines was away on his circuit, and would not return until just before the wedding, so that from him Clayton could get no help. Very wisely, then, he interfered no more, but awaited the day with dread.

It was nearing dusk when he left the camp on his wedding-night.
Half-way up the mountain he stopped to lean against the kindly
breast of a bowlder blocking the path. It was the spot where he
had seen Easter for the first time. The mountains were green again,
as they were then, but the scene seemed sadly changed. The sun was gone; the evening-star had swung its white light like a censer above Devil's Den; the clouds were moving swiftly through the darkening air, like a frightened flock seeking a fold; and the night was closing fast over the cluster of faint camp-fires. The spirit brooding over mountain and sky was unspeakably sad, and with a sharp pain at his heart Clayton turned from it and hurried on. Mountain, sky, and valley were soon lost in the night. When he reached the cabin rays of bright light were flashing from chink and crevice into the darkness, and from the kitchen came the sounds of busy preparation. Already many guests had arrived. A group of men who stood lazily talking in the porch became silent as he
approached, but, recognizing none of them, he entered the cabin. A
dozen women were seated about the room, and instantly their eyes
were glued upon him. As the kitchen door swung open he saw
Easter's mother bending over the fireplace, a table already heavily
laden, and several women bustling about it. Above his head he
heard laughter, a hurried tramping of feet, and occasional cries of