Darrell silently drew her nearer himself, feeling that even in this
foretaste of joy he had received ample compensation for the past.
A few days later there was a quiet wedding at the Springs. The beautiful
church on the mountain-side had been decorated for the occasion, and at
an early hour, while yet the robins were singing their matins, the
little wedding-party gathered about the altar where John Darrell Britton
and Kate Underwood plighted their troth for life. Above the jubilant
bird-songs, above the low, subdued tones of the organ, the words of the
grand old marriage service rang out with impressiveness.
Besides the rector and his wife, there were present only Mr. Underwood,
Mrs. Dean, and Mr. Britton. It had been Kate's wish, with which Darrell
had gladly coincided, thus to be quietly married, surrounded only by
their immediate relatives.
"Let our wedding be a fit consummation of our betrothal," she had said
to him, "without publicity, unhampered by conventionalities, so it will
always seem the sweeter and more sacred."
That evening found them all at The Pines, assembled on the veranda
watching the sunset, the old home seeming wonderfully restful and
peaceful to the returned travellers.
The years which had come and gone since Darrell first came to the Pines
told heaviest on Mr. Underwood. His hair was nearly white and he had
aged in many ways, appearing older than Mr. Britton, who was
considerably his senior; but age had brought its compensations, for the
stern, immobile face had softened and the deep-set eyes glowed with a
kindly, beneficent light. Mr. Britton's hair was well silvered, but his
face bore evidence of the great joy which had come into his life, and as
his eyes rested upon his son he seemed to live anew in that glorious
young life. To Mrs. Dean the years had brought only a few silver threads
in the brown hair and an added serenity to the placid, unfurrowed brow.
Calm and undemonstrative as ever, but with a smile of deep content, she
sat in her accustomed place, her knitting-needles flashing and clicking
with their old-time regularity. Duke, who had been left in Mr. Britton's
care during Darren's absence, occupied his old place on the top stair,
but even his five years of added dignity could not restrain him from
occasional demonstrations of joy at finding himself again at The Pines
and with his beloved master and mistress.
As the twilight began to deepen Kate suggested that they go inside, and
led the way, not to the family sitting-room, but to a spacious room on
the eastern side, a room which had originally been intended as a
library, but never furnished as such. It was beautifully decorated with
palms and flowers, while the fireplace had been filled with light boughs
of spruce and fir.
As they entered the room, Kate, slipping her arm within Mr. Britton's,
led him before the fireplace.