This was immediately acquiesced in; but at Hugh’s suggestion a car was prepared, a horse yoked in a few minutes, and Felix, accompanied and supported by his brother and sister, set out for Mass.  On arriving at the “green,” he felt that his short journey had not been beneficial to him; on the contrary, he was worse, and very properly declined to go into the heated atmosphere of the chapel.  A message by his sister soon brought the blushing, trembling, serious, yet happy-looking girl to his side.  Her neat white dress, put on with that natural taste which is generally accompanied by as clear sense of moral propriety, and her plain cottage bonnet, bought for the occasion, showed that she came prepared, not beyond, but to the utmost reach of her humble means.  And this she did more for Felix’s sake than her own, for she resolved that her appearance should not, if possible, jar upon the feelings of one who, she knew, in marrying her, had sacrificed prospects of wealth and worldly happiness for her sake.  At sight of her, Felix smiled, but it was observed that his face, which had a moment before been pale, was instantly flushed, and his eye unusually bright.  When he had kissed her, she replied to the friendly greetings of his brother and Maura with the most comely dignity, well suited to her situation and circumstances.  Then turning to the elected husband of her heart, she said—­

“Why thin, Felix, but it’s little credit you do me this happy morning, coming with your night-cap on, as if you weren’t well;” but as she saw the smile fade from his lips, and the color from his cheek, her heart sank, and “pallid as death’s dedicated bride,” with her soft blue eyes bent upon his changing color and bandaged head, she exclaimed, “God be merciful to us!  Felix dear, you are ill—­you are hurted!  Felix, Felix darling, what ails you?  What is wrong?”

“Don’t be frightened, jewel,” he replied, “Don’t, darling—­it won’t signify—­my foot slipped afther laving you last night on my way home, and my head came against a stone—­it’s only a little sore outside.  It ’ill be very well as soon as the priest puts your heart and mine together—­never to be parted—­long—­long an’ airnestly have I wished an’ prayed for this happy day.  Isn’t your mother here, jewel, an’ my own little Ellen?”

Her eye had been fixed upon his countenance with all the love and anxiety of a young bride about to be united to the husband of her heart’s first choice.  She saw that despite of every effort to the contrary, there was in his mind a source of some secret sorrow.  A single tear rolled down her cheek, which he kissed away, and as he did it, whispered her in a tone of affectionate confidence, that it was but a trifle and signified nothing.  Maura took her hand, and assured her that no cause for apprehension existed; so did Hugh, but as he held her hand in his, he perceived that she got pale again, and trembled as if seized with some sudden fear.