The priest passed over her silence,
naturally ascribing it to bashfulness, and honestly taking her consent
for granted.
The rites were finished, the benediction bestowed, and friends and
acquaintances left their pews, and crowded around with congratulations.
Among the foremost was Thurston Willcoxen, whose suave and stately
courtesy, and graceful bearing, and gracious words, so pleased Commodore
Waugh that, knowing Jacquelina to be married and safe, he invited and
urged the accomplished young "Parisian," as he was often called, to
return and partake of the Christmas wedding breakfast.
"Nace, do you take your bride home in the gig, as you will want her
company to yourself, and we will go in the carriage," said the
commodore, good-naturedly. In fact, the old man had not been in such
a fine humor for many a day.
Dr. Grimshaw, "nothing loth," led his fair bride to the gig, handed her
in, and took the place beside her.
"Now, then, fairest and dearest, you are at last, indeed, my own!" he
said, seeking her eyes.
"Thank Heaven, I am not! I never foreswore myself. I never opened my
lips, or formed a vow in my head. I never promised you anything," said
Jacquelina, turning away; and the rest of the journey was made in
silence.
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