“Without exception,” said Andrew emphatically, looking first at Jonas, then at Mr. Williams, “my niece is the noblest woman I ever knew.”

“Please don’t, Uncle Andrew!” begged Julia, almost speechless with shame.  Praise was something she could not bear.  She was inured to censure.

“Do you remember that dark night—­of course you do—­when you braved everything and came here to see August, who would have died but for your coming?” Andrew was now looking at Julia, who answered him almost inaudibly.

“And do you remember when we got to your gate, on your return, what you said to me?”

“Yes, sir,” said Julia.

“To be sure you do, and” (turning to August) “I shall never forget her words; she said, If he should get worse, I should like him to die my husband, if he wishes it.  Send for me, day or night, and I will come in spite of everything.”

“Did you say that?” asked August, looking at her eagerly.

And Julia nodded her head, and lifted her eyes, glistening with brimming tears, to his.

“You do not know,” said Andrew to the preacher, “how much her proposal meant, for you do not know through what she would have had to pass.  But I say that God does sometimes reward virtue in this world—­a world not quite worn out yet—­and she is worthy of the reward in store for her.”

Saying this, Andrew went into the closet leading to his secret stairway—­secret no longer, since Julia had ascended by that way—­and soon came down from his library with a paper in his hand.

“When you, my noble-hearted niece, proposed to make any sacrifice to marry this studious, honest, true-hearted German gentleman, who is worthy of you, if any man can be, I thought best to be ready for any emergency, and so I went the next day and procured the license, the clerk promising to keep my secret.  A marriage-license is good for thirty days.  You will see, Mr. Williams, that this has not quite expired.”

The minister looked at it and then said, “I depend on your judgment, Mr. Anderson.  There seems to be something peculiar about the circumstances of this marriage.”

“Very peculiar,” said Andrew.

“You give me your word, then, that it is a marriage I ought to solemnize?”

“The lady is my niece,” said Andrew.  “The marriage, taking place in this castle, will shed more glory upon it than its whole history beside; and you, sir, have never performed a marriage ceremony in a case where the marriage was so excellent as this.”

“Except the last one,” put in Jonas.

I suppose Mr. Williams made the proper reductions for Andrew’s enthusiasm.  But he was satisfied, and perhaps he was rather inclined to be satisfied, for gentle-hearted old men are quite susceptible to a romantic situation.

When he asked August if he would live with this woman in holy matrimony “so long as ye both shall live,” August, thinking the two hours of time left to him too short for the earnestness of his vows, looked the old minister in the eyes, and said solemnly:  “For ever and ever!”