The Hallowed Moon

They were to be married early in September--just a month from the day
when Smiles so nearly gave her life to save another's.

During the days which must pass before she became Donald's in
the full trinity of body, mind and soul, his family kept her at
Manchester-by-the-Sea and each hour bound her more closely to the heart
of each.

For her, Ethel planned and purchased, sewed and supervised, putting as
much loving thought into the making of her simple outfit as though it
was she herself who was to be wedded. The days were busy ones, the
evening hours rich in love and contentment, for Donald came down from
the city each night, and the two learned the way to many a secret
chamber in each other's heart.

Early in the week which was to bring to a close the separate stories of
the man and maid, and write the first Chapter in the single history of
man and wife, Donald left them to make a brief, but important, trip
which, he said, could not be postponed; and oh, how empty life seemed to
Smiles during those few days.

But they were ended at last, and the marriage evening came,--still and
mellow, with the voices of both shore and sea tuned to soft night
melodies.

Below in the hall, hidden within a bower of palms, an orchestra of
Boston Symphony players drew whispering harmonies from the strings of
violins, harp and cello, and, at the signal, swept into the dreamy,
enchanted notes of Mendelssohn's marriage song.