Melchisedek, or as he was commonly called, Cheesy, mounted upon Marian's
pony, rode on in advance, to open the gates for the party. Mrs. Waugh's
carriage followed. And Thurston's gig brought up the rear. And thus the
travelers set forth.
The sun had now risen in cloudless splendor, and was striking long lines
of crimson light across the snow, and piercing through the forest
aisles. Flocks of saucy little snow-birds alighted fearlessly in their
path; but the cunning little gray rabbits just peeped with their round,
bright eyes, and then quickly hopped away.
I need not describe their merry journey at length. My readers will
readily imagine how delightful was the trip to at least two of the
party. And those two were not Dr. Grimshaw and Jacquelina.
Thurston pleaded so hard for a private marriage when they got to
Washington that at last Marian consented.
So one day they drove out to the Navy Yard Hill, and there in the
remotest and quietest suburb of the city, in a little Methodist chapel,
without witnesses, Thurston and Marian were married.
Thurston and Marian found an opportunity to be alone in the drawing-room
for the few moments preceding his departure. In those last moments she
could not find it in her heart to withhold one word whose utterance
would cheer his soul, and give him hope and joy and confidence in
departing.
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