The train arrived on time, and as Miss Wilson alighted from the car,
I greeted her. How I gazed into those beautiful eyes and tried to
read there the love I hungered for.

We drove to the Hotel Brunswick for luncheon, and if "the proof
of the pudding is in the eating," the luncheon, despite the good
reputation of that old hostelry, then in its palmy days, must have
been a poor one. Either that, or we lacked appetite--more likely
the latter.

After luncheon we again took the carriage, and drove to the pier
where the _Mary Powell_ was awaiting her passengers.

It was during that drive, while passing down Fifth Avenue, that
the word I so longed to hear was spoken. "Yes"--only a single word
and yet it spoke volumes to my heart. It bound together for all
time two beings, neither of whom had known for longer than a few
months even of the existence of the other, and yet a divine power
had brought these two hearts, beating in unison, to their natural
mate. While the lips whispered "yes," the hand found its way to
mine and the loving clasp was the only demonstration the surroundings
permitted; but when the carriage had turned into a comparatively
quiet side street and just before it reached the pier, I could no
longer refrain.

Drawing the curtains at the carriage windows, I clasped to my heart
the lovely girl who was now my very own.

Oh, what an ecstasy of bliss that moment was!