“Cherish her tenderly, my dear boy,” his mother said, with tears in her soft eyes, “you are all, everything to her, and must never let her want for love or tenderest care.”

“Mother,” he answered in moved tones, “I shall try to be to my little wife just the husband my father was to you.”

“That is all any one could ask, my son,” she returned, the tears coursing down her cheeks.

“Do not expect too much of her, Edward,” Mr. Dinsmore said.  “She is a mere child, a petted and spoiled one, I presume, from what you have told us, and if she should prove wayward and at times unreasonable, be very patient and forbearing with her.”

“I trust I shall, grandpa,” he answered.  “I cannot expect her to be quite the woman she would have made under my mother’s training; but she is young enough to profit by mamma’s sweet teachings and example even yet.  I find her very docile and teachable, very affectionate, and desirous to be and do all I would have her.”

Zoe came down for the evening simply but tastefully attired in white, looking very sweet and fair.  She was evidently disposed to be on friendly terms with her new relatives, yet clung with a pretty sort of shyness to her young husband, who perceived it with delight, regarding her ever and anon with fond, admiring eyes.

It excited no jealousy in mother or sisters.  Such an emotion was quite foreign to Elsie’s nature and found small place in the heart of any one of her children.

Violet, spite of the near approach of her own nuptials, was sufficiently at leisure from herself to give time and thought to this new sister, making her feel that she was so esteemed, and winning for herself a large place in Zoe’s heart.

Indeed all exerted themselves to make Zoe fully aware that they considered her quite one of the family.  That very evening she was taken with Edward to Vi’s room to look at the trousseau, told of all the arrangements for the wedding and the summer sojourn at the North, and made the recipient of many handsome presents from Mr. and Mrs. Dinsmore, Elsie, and Violet.

But for her recent sad bereavement she would have been a very happy little woman indeed.  As it was she was bright and cheerful when with the family, but had occasional paroxysms of grief when alone with Edward, in which she wept bitterly upon his breast, he soothing her with tenderest caresses and words of endearment.

Violet’s wedding was strictly private, only near relatives being present; but in accordance with the wishes of the whole family, she was richly attired in white silk, orange blossoms, and costly bridal veil.

Zoe, leaning on Edward’s arm, watched her through the ceremony with admiring eyes, more than half regretting that the haste of her own marriage had precluded the possibility of so rich and becoming a bridal dress for herself—­a thought which she afterward expressed to Edward in the privacy of their own apartments.  “Never mind, my sweet,” he said, holding her close to his heart “I couldn’t love you any better if you had given yourself to me in the grandest of wedding-dresses.”