His look of surprise and delight on seeing Sylvan and Cora was good to behold.

"Why, Lors bress my po' ole soul, young ma.r.s.e an' miss, is yer come sure 'nough? 'Deed I's moughty proud to see yer. How's de ole ma.r.s.e? When he coming back agin?" he queried, as the carriage rolled slowly across the gangplank from the wharf to the deck of the ferryboat.

"Your ole ma.r.s.e is quite well, Uncle Moses, and will be home on the first of the month with his new wife," said Sylvan, who could not miss the fun of telling this rare bit of news to the aged ferryman.

The old negro dropped his pole into the water, opened his mouth and eyes to their widest extent and gasped and stared.

"Wid--w'ich?" he said, at last.

"With his new wife and your new mistress," answered Sylvan.

The old negro dropped his chin on his chest, raised his k.n.o.bby black fingers to his head and scratched his gray hair with a look of quaint perplexity, as he muttered,

"Now I wunner ef I tuk too heavy a pull on to dat dar rum jug, fo' I lef de house dis mornin'--I wunner if I did."

His mate stopped and pulled the pole up out of the water and began himself to push off the boat until it was afloat.

They soon reached the opposite sh.o.r.e, drove off the boat and up the avenue between the flowering locust trees that formed a long, green, fragrant arch above their heads, and so on to the gray old house. In a very few moments the door was opened and all the household servants appeared to welcome the returning party. Most of them looked more frightened than pleased; but when anxious glances toward the group leaving the carriage a.s.sured them that the family "Boodlejock" was not present, they seemed relieved and delighted to see the others.

With the easy, respectful familiarity of long and faithful service, the negro men and women crowded around the entering party with loving greetings.

The news of the Iron King's marriage was told by Sylvan. Had a bombsh.e.l.l fallen and exploded among the servants, they could not have been more shocked. There was a simultaneous exclamation of surprise and dismay, and then total silence.

At the end of the third day all was ready for the reception of Mr. and Mrs. Rockharrt.

The next day was the first of July. As soon as Mr. Clarence reached his private office at the works he found a telegram waiting him. He opened it, and read the following:

CAPON SPRINGS, July 1, 18--

Shall reach North End by the 6 p.m. train. Send the carriage to meet that train. Shall go directly to Rockhold. Order dinner there for 8 p.m.

AARON ROCKHARRT.

Mr. Clarence put a boy on horseback and sent him on to Cora, with this message inclosed in a note from himself. And then he gave his attention to the duties of his office. He was still busy at his desk when Mr.

Fabian strolled in.

"Well, old man, good morning. I return to duty to-day, because it is the first of the month, you know."

"And also the first of the financial year. There has been so much to do within the last few days, I am glad you have returned to your post. I would like the pater to find all right when he comes to inspect. By the way, I have just got a telegram from him. I have just sent it off to Cora, so that she may know when to send the carriage, and for what hour to order dinner. You know it would never do to have anything 'gang aglee' in which the pater is interested."

"No. Well, you and I must go to meet him. We must not fail in any attention to the old gentleman."

"Of course not. Oh! what will the people say when they hear the news? I do not think that the slightest rumor of the mad marriage has got out I know that I have not breathed it."

"Nor I. But of course it will be generally known within twenty-four hours; and then I hope the pater will do the handsome thing and give his workmen a general holiday and jollification."

"I doubt it, since he has not even refurnished the shabby old drawing room at Rockhold in honor of the occasion," said Mr. Clarence.

Then the brothers separated for the day.

Whenever the family traveling carriage happened to be sent from Rockhold to the North End railway depot, it always stopped at the North End Hotel to rest and water the horses. So when the afternoon waned, as Messrs. Fabian and Clarence Rockharrt had to remain busy in their respective offices up to the last possible minute, Sylvan was stationed on the front porch of the hotel, with the day's newspapers and a case of cigars to solace him while watching for the carriage.

It came at a quarter to five o'clock, and while the horses were resting and feeding, Sylvan sent a messenger to summon his two uncles. By the time the two horses were ready to start again, the two men came up and entered the carriage. Sylvan followed them in.

"See here, my boy," said Mr. Fabian, "you can't go, you know. There will be no room for you coming back. Clarence and myself fill two seats, and your grandfather and--"

"Grandmother fill up the other," added Sylvan. "But never mind; in coming back I can ride on the box with the coachman; but go I will to meet my venerable grandparents! Bless my wig! didn't I give away my grandmother at the altar, and shall I not pay them the attention of going to meet them on their return from their wedding tour?"

The horses started at a good pace, pa.s.sed through the village street, entered the main road running miles between the great works, and rolled on into the silent forest road that led to the railway depot in the valley.

Here the carriage drew up before the solitary station house.

Soon the train ran in and stopped. Old Aaron Rockharrt got out and handed down his wife, before turning to face his sons. A man and maid servant, loaded down with handbags, umbrellas, waterproofs, and shawls, got out of another car.

"Fabian, put Mrs. Rockharrt into the carriage. I shall step into the waiting room to speak to the ticket agent," said old Aaron Rockharrt, as he strode off to the building.

Fabian Rockharrt gave his arm to the lady, who during all this time had remained closely veiled. He led her off, leaving Clarence and Sylvan on the platform to wait for the return of Mr. Rockharrt. As soon as Fabian and his companion were out of hearing of the rest of their party, he turned to her, and bending his head close to her ear, said:

"Well, Ann White, what have you to say for yourself, eh, Ann White?"

He felt her tremble as she answered defiantly:

"Mrs. Rockharrt, if you please."

"No; by my life I will never give to such as you my honored mother's name!"

"And yet I have it with all the rights and privileges it bestows, and I defy you, Fabian Rockharrt!"

"You know very little of the laws relating to marriage if you think that you have legal right to the name and position you have seized, or that I have not power to thrust you out of my father's house and into a cell."

"You are insolent! I shall report your words to Mr. Rockharrt, and then we shall see who will be thrust out of his house!"

"I think that you had better not. Listen, and I will tell you something that you do not know, perhaps."

She turned quickly, inquiringly, toward him. He stooped and whispered a few words. He felt her thrill from head to foot, felt her rock and sway for a moment, and then--he had just time to catch her before she fell a dead weight in his arms.

CHAPTER XX.

THE WHISPERED WORDS.

"Well! what's all this?" abruptly demanded old Aaron Rockharrt, as he came up, followed by Clarence and Sylvan, just as Fabian was lifting the unconscious woman into the carriage.

"Mrs. Rockharrt has been over-fatigued, I think, sir, for she has fainted. But don't be alarmed; she is recovering," said Mr. Fabian, as he settled the lady in an easy position in a corner of the carriage, and found a smelling salts bottle and put it to her nose.