"Orange still above! Oh, my dear, don't trouble yourself to come down! I

can pass the time tolerably well, watching you."

It was Mrs. Gordon, and she nodded and laughed in a triumphant way that

very quickly brought Katherine to her side. "My dear, I kiss you. You

are the top beauty of my whole acquaintance." Then, in a whisper,

"Richard sends his devotion. And put your hand in my muff: there is a

letter. And pray give me joy: I have just secured an invitation. I

asked the councillor and madam point blank for it. Faith, I think I am a

little of a favourite with them! Every one is talking of the bridegroom,

and the bridegroom is talking to every one. Surely, my dear, he imagines

himself to be the only man that will ever again commit matrimony.

Oranje boven, everywhere!" Then, with a little exultant laugh, "Above

the Tartan, at any rate. How is the young Bruce? My dear, if you don't

make him suffer, I shall never forgive you. Alternate doses of hope and

despair, that would be my prescription."

Katherine shook her head.

"Take notice, in particular, that I don't understand nods and shakes and

sighs and signs. What is your opinion, frankly?"

"On my wedding day, as I left Richard, this he said to me: 'My honour,

Katherine, is now in your keeping.' By the lifting of one eyelash, I

will not stain it."

"My dear, you are perfectly charming. You always convince me that I am a

better woman than I imagine myself. I shall go straight to Dick, and

tell him how exactly proper you are. Really, you have more perfections

than any one woman has a right to."

"To-morrow, if I have a letter ready, you will take it?"

"I will run the risk, child. But really, if you could see the way mine

host of the 'King's Arms' looks at me, you would be sensible of my

courage. I am persuaded he thinks I carry you under my new wadded cloak.

Now, adieu. Return to your evergreens and ribbons.

"'For your own true love,

Tie the splendid orange,

Orange still above!'"

And so, lightly humming Katharine's favourite song, she left the busy

house.

Before daylight the next morning, Batavius had every one at his post.

The ceremony was to be performed in the Middle Kirk, and he took care

that Joanna kept neither Dominie de Ronde nor himself waiting. He was

exceedingly gratified to find the building crowded when the wedding

party arrived. Joanna's dress had cost a guinea a yard, his own

broadcloth and satin were of the finest quality, and he felt that the

good citizens who respected him ought to have an opportunity to see how

deserving he was of their esteem. Joanna, also, was a beautiful bride;

and the company was entirely composed of men of honour and substance,

and women of irreproachable characters, dressed with that solid

magnificence gratifying to a man who, like Batavius, dearly loved

respectability.




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