Family Pride

"Handy and gentle as a woman," was the verdict pronounced upon him by the female portion of the congregation as they passed out into the street, talking of the ceremony, and contrasting Helen's husband with the haughty Wilford, who was not a favorite with them.

It was Billy Brown who brought Mark's cutter around, holding the reins while Mark helped Helen, and then tucking the buffalo robes about her with the remark: "It's all-fired cold, Miss Ray. Shall you play in church to-morrow?"

Assured that she would, Billy walked away, and Mark was alone with his bride, slowly following the deacon's sleigh, which reached the farmhouse a long time before the little cutter, so that a fire was already kindled in the parlor when Helen arrived, and also in the kitchen stove, where the teakettle was placed, for Aunt Betsy said "the chap should have some supper before he went back to York."

Four hours he had to stay, and they were well spent in talking of himself, of Wilford, and of Morris, and in planning Helen's future. Of course she would spend a portion of her time at the farmhouse, he said, but his mother had a claim upon her, and it was his wish that she should be in New York as much as possible.

"Now that you have Mrs. Cameron, you do not need my wife," he said to Mrs. Lennox, with an emphasis upon the last word, which he seemed very fond of using.

Much he wished to stay with the wife so lately his, but as that could not be, he asked at last that she go with him to Washington. It might be some days before his regiment was ordered to the front, and in that time they could enjoy so much. But Helen knew it would not be best, and so she declined, promising, however, to come to him whenever he should need her.

Swiftly now the last moments went by, and a "Merry Christmas" was said by one and another as they took their seats at the plentiful repast Aunt Betsy had provided, Mark feasting more on Helen's face than on the viands spread before him. It was hard for him to leave her, hard for her to let him go, but the duty was imperative, and so when at last the frosty air grew keener as the small hours of night crept on, he stood with his arms about her, nor thought it unworthy of a soldier that his own tears mingled with hers as he bade her good-by, kissing her again and again, and calling her his precious wife, whose memory would make his camp-life brighter and shorten the days of absence. There was no one with them when at last Mark's horse dashed from the yard over the creaking snow, leaving Helen alone upon the doorstep, with the glittering stars shining above her head and her husband's farewell kiss wet upon her lips.