It passed with a sigh, and in its place there came the memory of poor Mr.Tombey, but for whom she would not have been standing there a bride, and of his last words as he put her into the boat.

He was food for fishes now, poor fellow, and she was left alone with a great and happy career opening out before her--a career in which her talents would have free space to work.

And yet how odd to think it: two or three score of years and it would all be one, and she would be as Mr.Tombey was.

Poor Mr.Tombey! perhaps it was as well that he was not there to see her happiness; and let us hope that wherever it is we go after the last event we lose sight of the world and those we knew therein.

Otherwise there must be more hearts broken in heaven above than in earth beneath.
"Now, then, Miss Smithers," broke in Dr.Probate, "for the very last time--nobody will call you that again, you know--take my arm; his Lordship--I mean the parson--is there." * * * * * It was done, and they were man and wife.