But I pooh-poohed
that matter--told him I didn't think the mysterious husband would ever
trouble us, and I don't think he will. By the bye, Sir Roger Trajenna
goes to-morrow, too, so my little girl is deserted by all, and must
cling the closer to me."
* * * * *
While Carl Walraven and Sir Roger Trajenna sailed over the wide
sea--while Blanche Walraven ground her teeth in impotent rage up at
Yonkers--while Dr. Guy Orleander pursued his business in New York, and
scowled darkly at the failure of his plans--the daily papers burst out,
one morning, with the jubilant news that Hugh Ernest Ingelow, Esq.,
and Miss Mollie Dane were one flesh. The Reverend Raymond Rashleigh
performed the ceremony, and the wedding was a very quiet affair, and the
happy pair started off at once to spend the honey-moon in a trip to the
Canadas.
So we leave Cricket--all her girlish troubles, and flirtations, and
wildness over, to settle down into the dearest, brightest, loveliest
little wife in wide America. Happy as the days are long, and bright as
the sun that shines, has Cricket been since Hugh Ingelow has been her
husband.
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