Before they came to the marsh they blindfolded their guest; and did
not remove the bandage until he was safely within the long room of the
castle. Silver met them, radiant in the firelight.
'Heaven grant you its blessing, maiden,' said the Preacher, becoming
Biblical at once. He meant it, however, for he sat gazing at her long
with moistened eyes, forgetful even of the good cheer on the table; a
gleam from his far-back youth came to him, a snow-drop that bloomed
and died in bleak New Hampshire long, long before.
The wedding was in the early morning. Old Fog had hurried it, hurried
everything; he seemed driven by a spirit of unrest, and wandered from
place to place, from room to room, his eyes fixed in a vacant way upon
the familiar objects. At the last moment he appeared with a
prayer-book, its lettering old, its cover tarnished. 'Have you any
objection to using the Episcopal service?' he asked in a low tone.
'I--I have heard the Episcopal service.'
'None in the world,' replied the affable little Preacher.
But he too grew sober and even earnest as Silver appeared, clad in
white, her dress and hair wreathed with the trailing arbutus, the
first flower of spring, plucked from under the vanishing snows.
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