At last the pair were allowed to enter the carriage that was in waiting to convey them to the town house of Aaron Rockharrt.  Other carriages containing members of the committee attended them.  They passed through the main street of the city.

The procession of carriages passed until it reached the Rockharrt residence, opposite the government mansion, where the committee took leave of the governor-elect and his bride, who entered their temporary home alone, to be received and attended by obsequious servants.

There we also will leave them.

Visitors to the inauguration were arriving by every train.

Among the arrivals from the East came Aaron Rockharrt, with his wife, his two sons, Fabian and Clarence, and his grandson, Sylvan, the younger brother of Cora.

The main door of the mansion was open, and several gentlemen, wearing official badges, stood without or just within it.

“By Jove! we are just in time, and it has been a close shave!  That is the committee come to take him to the State house!” exclaimed old Aaron Rockharrt as he stepped out of the carriage, and helped his feeble little wife to alight.  He led her up the steps, followed by the other three men of his party.

“Good morning, Judge Abbot.  We are just in time, I find.  We came up by the night train, and a close shave it has been.  Well, a miss is as good as a mile, and we are safe to see the whole of the pageant,” said the old man, speaking to a tall, thin, gray-haired gentleman, who wore a rosette on the lapel of his coat.

“Yes, sir; but here is a very strange difficulty—­very strange, indeed,” replied the official, with a deeply troubled and perplexed air, which was shared by all the gentlemen who stood with him.

“What’s the trouble, gentlemen?  Is the chief justice ill, that his honor cannot administer the oath, or what?”

“It is much worse than that—­if anything could be worse,” gravely replied one of the committee.

“What is it then?  A contested election at this late hour?”

“The governor-elect cannot be found.  No one has seen him since eleven o’clock last night.  He is missing.”

CHAPTER II.

A lost governor and bridegroom.

“Missing!” echoed old Aaron Rockharrt, drawing up his huge frame to its fullest height, and staring with strong black eyes in a defiant and aggressive manner.  “Missing! did you say, sir?” he repeated sternly.

“Yes, Mr. Rockharrt; ever since last night,” replied Judge Abbot, chairman of the committee, in much distress and anxiety.

“Impossible!  Never heard of such a thing in the whole course of my life!  A bridegroom lost on the evening of his marriage!  A governor lost on the morning of his inauguration!  I tell you, sir, it is impossible—­utterly and entirely impossible!  How do you know, sir, that he has not been seen by some one or other since last night?  How do you know that he cannot be found, somewhere, this morning?”