“And why not, Helen?” he asked, with the manner of one who is not to be denied.  “Why not to-night, so there need be no more misunderstanding?  I’d rather leave you as my wife than my betrothed.  Mother will like it better.  I hinted it to her and she said there was room for you in her love.  It will make me a better man, a better soldier, if I can say ’my wife,’ as other soldiers do.  You don’t know what a charm there is in that word, Helen—­keeping a man from sin, and if I should die I would rather you should bear my name and share in my fortune.  Will you, Helen, when the ceremonies are closed, will you go up to that altar and pledge your vows to me?  I cannot wait till to-morrow; my leave of absence expired to-day.  I must go back to-night, but you must first be mine.”

Helen was shaking as with a chill, but she made him no reply, and wrapping her cloak and furs about her, Mark led her down to the sleigh, and taking his seat beside her, drove back to the farmhouse, where the supper waited for her.  Katy, to whom Mark first communicated his desire, warmly espoused his cause, and that went far toward reassuring Helen, who, for some time past had been learning to look up to Katy as to an older sister, so sober, so earnest, so womanly had Katy grown since Wilford went away.

“It is so sudden, and people will talk,” Helen said, knowing while she said it how little she cared for people and smiling at Katy’s reply: 

“They may as well talk about you a while as me.  It is not so bad when once you are used to it.”

After Katy, Aunt Betsy was Mark’s best advocate.  It is true this was not just what she had expected when Helen was married.  The “infair” which Wilford had declined was still in Aunt Betsy’s mind; but that, she reflected might be yet.  If Mark went back on the next train there could be no proper wedding party until his return, when the loaves of frosted cake, and the baked fowls she had seen in imagination should be there in real, tangible form, and as she expressed it they would have a “high.”  Accordingly she threw herself into the scale beginning to balance in favor of Mark, and when at last old Whitey stood at the door ready to take the family to the church, Helen sat upon the lounge listening half bewildered, while Katy assured her that she could play the voluntary, even if she had not looked at it, that she could lead the children without the organ, and in short do everything Helen was expected to do except go to the altar with Mark.

“That I leave for you,” and she playfully kissed Helen’s forehead, as she tripped from the room, looking back when she reached the door, and charging the lovers not to forget to come, in their absorption of each other.