"What time is it, and where are you going,
dear?" she asked, dozily wondering if the carriage
for the wedding-tour was at the door so soon.
"It's only nine, and I am going for a sail, Aunt
Pen."
As Debby spoke, the light flashed full into her
face, and a sudden thought into Mrs. Carroll's
mind. She rose up from her pillow, looking as
stately in her night-cap as Maria Theresa is said
to have done in like unassuming head-gear.
"Something has happened, Dora! What have
you done? What have you said? I insist upon
knowing immediately," she demanded, with somewhat
startling brevity.
"I have said 'No' to Mr. Leavenworth and 'Yes' to
Mr. Evan; and I should like to go home to-morrow,
if you please," was the equally concise reply.
Mrs. Carroll fell flat in her bed, and lay
there stiff and rigid as Morlena Kenwigs. Debby
gently drew the curtains, and stole away leaving
Aunt Pen's wrath to effervesce before morning.
The moon was hanging luminous and large on
the horizon's edge, sending shafts of light before
her till the melancholy ocean seemed to smile, and
along that shining pathway happy Debby and her
lover floated into that new world where all things
seem divine.
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