They were wed in Florence, in the grandest cathedral she had ever seen, the Santa Maria del Fiore. "Aha!" exclaimed Jackson. This moment couldn’t be better until the next moment comes. He wondered if the young fool had any idea of what he had drawn in this tragic lottery called marriage. The particulars of her engagement were very clear in her memory. To-morrow he might be sorry; but to-day, this hour! She rose, not quickly, but with a dignity which only accentuated her beauty. After all, what could happen? He was looking at her very hard and earnestly. A scene now ensued, highly characteristic of the age, and the occasion. He was never drunk in the accepted meaning of the word; rather he walked in a kind of stupefaction. ‘We was of an age, you see, miss. E. ” She turned her face to the fire, gripped her hands upon her elbows, and drew her thin shoulders together in a shrug. CHAPTER IV.
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