'My dear,' said Mrs. Marston tremulously, 'I always feared disaster
from this strange match.'

'How _can_ Hazel have anything to do with it, mother?'

'I think, dear, it is a sign from God. On your wedding-morning! Broken
glass! Yes, it is a sign from God. I wish it need not have been quite
so violent. But, of course, He knows best.'




Chapter 15


At the parsonage everything was ready early. Edward, restless after his
rough awakening, had risen at three and finished his own preparations,
being ready to help Mrs. Marston when she came down, still a good deal
upset. Whenever she passed Hazel's room, or saw Edward take flowers
there, she said, 'Oh, my dear!' and shook her head sadly. For the kind
of life that seemed to be mapped out by Edward would, she feared, not
include grandchildren. And grandchildren had acquired, through long
cogitations, the glamour of the customary. She was also ruffled by
Martha, who, unlike her own pastry, was 'short.' What with the two
women, angry and grieved, and the fact that his wedding-day held only
half the splendour that it should have held, Edward's spirits might
have been expected to be low; but they were not. He ran up and down,
joked with Martha, soothed his mother, and sang until Martha, who
thought that a minister's deportment at a wedding should be only a