“Isaac!  Isaac!” said his father with a reproving glance; and, as though that voice and look possessed a spell, the features of the young man instantly became grave, almost solemn.  Then turning to Algernon, the old man continued:  “As to leaving us, Mr. Reynolds, you of course know your own business best, and it arn’t my desire to interfere; but ef you could put up with our humble fare, say a week or ten days longer, I think as how it would be much better for you, and would give us a deal of pleasure besides.”

“Why, I’ll jest tell you what tis,” put in Isaac:  “I’ve fixed on you for groomsman, and I arn’t a going to gin in no how; so unless you want to quarrel; you’ll have to stay; and more’n that, it’s spected you’ll see to takin Ella thar; for I know she don’t like to go with any o’ the fellers round here; and I shall gin out she’s going with you; which may be won’t hurt your feelings none—­at any rate, I know it won’t hers.”

At the mention of Ella, Algernon crimsoned to the eyes, and became so exceedingly confused, that he could with difficulty stammer forth, by way of reply, the query as to the time when the important event was expected to take place.

“Let me see,” answered Isaac, telling off the days on his fingers:  “to-morrow’s Friday; then Saturday’s one, Sunday’s two, Monday’s three, and Tuesday’s four—­only four days from to-morrow morning, Mr. Reynolds.”

“Then, as you so urgently insist upon it,” rejoined Reynolds, “I will postpone my departure till after the wedding.”

Isaac thanked him cordially, and the father and mother looked gratified at the result; Ella he could not see—­she having withdrawn from the table, as previously noted.  Some further conversation ensued relative to the manner in which weddings were conducted in that country, and the design of proceeding with the one in question; but as we intend the reader to be present at the wedding itself, we shall not detail it.  We will remark here, by the way, that the stranger seemed to take a singular interest in all that was said concerning the residence of the intended bride, the road the party were expected to take to reach there, their probable number, manner of travel, and the time when they would be likely to set forth and return.  In all this it was observed by Algernon, that whenever he asked a question direct, it was put in such a careless manner as would lead one not otherwise suspicious to suppose him perfectly indifferent as to whether it were answered or not; but he somehow fancied, he scarce knew why, that there was a strong under current to this outward seeming.  And furthermore he observed, that the stranger in general avoided putting a question at all—­rather seeking his information by conjecturing or supposing what would immediately be contradicted or confirmed.  This mode of interrogation, so closely followed up to every particular, yet apparently with such indifference, together with the stranger’s treacherous look and several minor things all bearing a suspicious cast, more than half convinced Algernon that the other was a spy, and that some foul play was assuredly meditated; though what, and to whom, or for what purpose, he was at a loss to determine.