If Scoville were a rival now he certainly would have to take a wild pace to keep up with Mad Whately in his wooing.  His eyes were full of resolute fire as he walked beside his cousin, and her quick intuition took speedy alarm at his expression.  “Well, sweet coz,” he said, “the Yanks have very prudently dusted back to the region from which they came.  My mother will give herself the pleasure of a visit at The Oaks this afternoon.  Can you guess her object in coming?”

“Why, as you say, to give herself the pleasure of a visit.”

“Yes, and you and I will enhance her pleasure a thousand-fold.”

“I shall do all that I can in courtesy.”

“I’ll do the rest, for I shall gladden her heart by marrying you.”

“What!”

“Simply that, nothing more.  Isn’t that enough?”

“Far too much,” replied the girl, hotly.  “I don’t like such jesting.”

“Faith and it will prove the best joke of our lives, over which we will often laugh at our fireside hereafter.  Come now, cousin, make the best of it; it is the best for you as well as for me.  You know I always intended to marry you, and I have the hearty sanction of all the high contracting powers.”

She stopped abruptly in the path, her face so rich in angry color that it shamed the flowers blooming in the shrubbery near.

“Mr. Whately,” she said, firmly, “there is one contracting power that you have not consulted.  How can you marry me when I will not marry you?”

“Nothing easier, pretty coz.”

“But how—­how?”

“Oh, that you will learn at the proper time.  Everything shall go as simply, naturally and merrily as fate.  The blessing of parent and guardian, the clergyman in robes, prayer-book, wedding feast—­ nothing shall be wanting.”

“This is absurd talk,” she cried, and rushed to the house.  In the upper hall she encountered her aunt engaged in superintending a general dusting and polishing of the old-fashioned furniture.

“What is the meaning of this wild talk of Cousin Madison?” the girl asked, breathlessly.

“I’ve heard no wild talk,” was the cool response.

“Well, come into my room and hear it, then.”

Mrs. Baron reluctantly followed, rather aggrieved that she must bear the first brunt of the storm.

“What are you putting the house in such wonderful order for?” asked Miss Lou, with flashing eyes.  “What do all these preparations mean?  What is Aunt Whately coming here for this evening?”

“It is very natural she should wish to be present at her son’s wedding,” was the quiet and exasperating answer.

“When is this wedding to be?” was the next query, accompanied by a harsh laugh.

“I think we can be ready by to-morrow evening.”

“Are you a woman, that you can thus try to sacrifice the motherless girl committed to your charge?”

“So far from sacrificing you, I am trying to further your best interests, and at the same time carrying out the wishes of my husband and your guardian.  These are solemn times, in which you need every safeguard and protection.  We should be faithless, indeed, to our trust did we not give a brave soldier the best right in the world to shield and care for you.”