Bride and Groom

Though Winfield had sternly determined to go back to town the following
day, he did not achieve departure until later. Ruth went to the station
with him, and desolation came upon her when the train pulled out, in
spite of the new happiness in her heart.

She had little time to miss him, however, for, at the end of the week,
and in accordance with immemorial custom, the Unexpected happened.

She was sitting at her window one morning, trying to sew, when the
village chariot stopped at the gate and a lady descended. Joe stirred
lazily on the front seat, but she said, in a clear, high-pitched voice:
"You needn't trouble yourself, Joe. He'll carry the things."

She came toward the house, fanning herself with a certain stateliness,
and carrying her handkerchief primly, by the exact centre of it. In her
wake was a little old gentleman, with a huge bundle, surrounded by a
shawl-strap, a large valise, much the worse for wear, a telescope basket
which was expanded to its full height, and two small parcels. A cane was
tucked under one arm and an umbrella under the other. He could scarcely
be seen behind the mountain of baggage.

Hepsey was already at the door. "Why, Miss Hathaway!" she cried, in
astonishment.

"'T ain't Miss Hathaway," rejoined the visitor, with some asperity,
"it's Mrs. Ball, and this is my husband. Niece Ruth, I presume," she
added, as Miss Thorne appeared. "Ruth, let me introduce you to your
Uncle James."

The bride was of medium height and rather angular. Her eyes were small,
dark, and so piercingly brilliant that they suggested jet beads.
Her skin was dark and her lips had been habitually compressed into a
straight line. None the less, it was the face that Ruth had seen in the
ambrotype at Miss Ainslie's, with the additional hardness that comes to
those who grow old without love. Her bearing was that of a brisk, active
woman, accustomed all her life to obedience and respect.