For in life there is but one hour: an epic or an idyll: all other hours lead up to and down from it. She could feel her face turning beet red. "Who's there?" cried Rachel. ‘And so?’ she asked. He was a small, dark, reserved man, with a large inflexiblelooking convex forehead, and his wife was very pink and high-spirited, with one of those chins that pass insensibly into a full, strong neck. The atmosphere was 46 strained and deathly quiet at the dining room table. “He sees through it all. Young and old were dressed in their gayest apparel; and it was evident from the smiles that lighted up every countenance, from the roguish looks of the younger swains, and the demure expression of several pretty rustic maidens, that a ceremony, which never fails to interest all classes,—a wedding,—was about to take place. " "Holloa! my hearty!" cried Ben, starting to his feet.
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