“Will you come into the drawing room and rest, dear, before going upstairs?” inquired Mr. Rothsay of his bride, as they stood together in the front hall.

“No, thank you.  I will go to my room.  Come, Martha!” said the bride, and she went up stairs, followed by her maid.

Rule stood where she had so hastily left him, in the hall, looking so much at a loss that presently Jason volunteered to say: 

“Shall I show you to your apartment, sir?”

“Yes,” answered Mr. Rothsay.  And he followed the servant up stairs to a large and handsomely furnished bed chamber, having a dressing room attached.

Jason lighted the wax candles on the dressing table and on the mantel piece, and then inquired: 

“Is there anything else I can do for you, sir?”

“No,” replied Mr. Rothsay.

And the servant retired.

Rothsay was alone in the room.  He had never set up a valet; he had always waited on himself.  Now, however, he was again at a loss.  He was covered with railway dust and smoke, yet he saw no conveniences for ablution.

While he stood there, a shout arose in the street outside.  A single voice raised the cheer: 

“Hoo—­rah—­ah—­ah for Rothsay!”

He went to the front window of the room.  The sashes were hoisted, for the night was warm; but the shutters were closed.  He turned the slats a little and looked down on the square below.  It was filled with pedestrians, and every window of every house in sight was illuminated.  When the shouts had died away, he heard voices in the room.  He was himself accidentally concealed by the window curtains.  He looked around and saw his bride emerge from the dressing room, attired in an elegant dinner costume of rich maize-colored satin and black lace, with crocuses in her superb black hair.  She passed through the room without having seen him, and went down stairs followed by her maid.

He saw the door of the dressing room standing open and went into it.  It was no mere closet, but a large, well lighted and convenient apartment, furnished with every possible appurtenance for the toilet.  Here he found his trunk, his valise, his dressing case, all unpacked—­his brushes and combs laid out in order, his dinner suit hung over a rack—­every requirement of his toilet in complete readiness as if prepared by an experienced valet.  All this he had been accustomed to do, and expected to do, for himself.  Who had served him?  Had Corona and her maid?  Impossible!

He quickly made a refreshing evening toilet and went down stairs, for he was eager to rejoin his bride.  He found her in the drawing room; but scarcely had he seated himself at her side when the door was opened and dinner announced by Jason.

They both arose; he gave her his arm, and they followed the solemn butler to the dining room, which was on the opposite side of the front hall and in the rear of the library.