Sylvan thought to himself that the marriage alone was nonsense enough to stand by itself, like a velvet dress, which is spoiled by additions; but he said nothing.  Mr. Rockharrt, standing on the rug with his back to the mantlepiece and his hands clasped behind him, continued: 

“Sylvan, you will wear a morning suit; Cora, you will wear a visiting costume, just what you would wear to an ordinary church service.  Rose will be married in her traveling dress.  Immediately after the ceremony we, myself and wife, shall enter a carriage and drive to the railway depot and take the train for Niagara.  You two can return here or go to Rockhold or wherever you will.  We shall make a short tour of the Falls, lakes, St. Lawrence River, and so on, and probably return to Rockhold by the first of July.  I cannot remain long from the works while Fabian is away.  Now, am I clearly understood?”

“Very clearly, sir,” replied Sylvan, speaking for himself and sister.

“Then, good night; I am going to bed,” said the Iron King, and without waiting for a response, he strode out of the room.

“Who ever heard of a man dictating to a woman what she shall wear?” exclaimed Cora.

Sylvan laughed.

“Why, the King of the Cumberland mines would dictate when you should rise from your seat and walk across the room; when you should sit down again; when you should look out of the window, and every movement of your life, if it were not too much trouble.  Good night, Cora.”

The brother and sister shook hands and parted for the night, each going to his or her respective apartment.  Early the next morning the little party met at breakfast.  The Iron King looked sullen and defiant, as if he were challenging the whole world to find any objection to his remarkable marriage at their peril.  Mrs. Stillwater, in a pretty morning robe of pale blue sarcenet, made very plainly, looked shy, humble, and deprecating, as if begging from all present a charitable construction of her motives and actions.  Cora Rothsay looked calm and cold in her usual widow’s dress and cap.

Sylvan seemed the only cheerful member of the party, and tried to make conversation out of such trifles as the bill of fare furnished.  All were relieved when the party separated and went to their rooms to dress for church.  At eleven o’clock they reassembled in the parlor.  Mr. Rockharrt wore a new morning suit.  He might have been going down to Wall Street instead of to his own wedding.  Rose Stillwater wore a navy blue, lusterless silk traveling dress, with hat, veil and gloves to match, all very plain, but extremely becoming to her fresh complexion and ruddy hair.  Cora wore her widow’s dress of lusterless black silk with mantle, bonnet, veil and gloves to match.  Sylvan, like his grandfather, wore a plain morning suit.

“Well, are you all ready?” demanded old Aaron, looking critically upon the party.

“All ready, sir,” chirped Sylvan for the others.