And so the evening passed; and at an early hour the party separated to
get a good long night's rest, preparatory to their early start in the
morning.
But Thurston, for one, was too happy to sleep for some time; too happy
in the novel blessedness of resting under the same roof with his own
beautiful and dearest Marian.
CHAPTER XVI.
THE BRIDE OF AN HOUR.
It was a clear, cold, sharp, invigorating winter morning. The snow was
crusted over with hoar frost, and the bare forest trees were hung with
icicles. The cunning fox, the 'possum and the 'coon, crept shivering
from their dens; but the shy, gray rabbit, and the tiny, brown
wood-mouse, still nestled in their holes. And none of nature's small
children ventured from their nests, save the hardy and courageous little
snow-birds that came to seek their food even at the very threshold of
their natural enemy--man.
The approaching sun had scarcely as yet reddened the eastern horizon, or
flushed the snow, when at Locust Hill our travelers assembled in the
dining-room, to partake of their last meal previous to setting forth.
Commodore Waugh, and Mrs. L'Oiseau, who were fated to remain at home and
keep house, were also there to see the travelers off.
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