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 "Good-by, good-by, my Atalanta!" Sara whispered, as her turn came to take Margaret in her arms in an affectionate embrace; and Margaret felt that the cheek laid for a moment against her own was wet with tears. They were the only ones that marred the smiles of that bright wedding-day, and they were forgotten five minutes after they were dry.

Amidst a storm of rice and satin shoes, of kisses and farewells, Robert and Margaret left the old Ruysdale mansion and started on that first and shortest stage of their life-journey.

The summer was past, and Thebes, the broken and desolate city, was beginning to give thanks for her deliverance from the pestilence. In the churches thanksgivings were offered, and in the decimated households men and women were rejoicing for the lives of the dear ones who had been spared to them. At the headquarters of the Aid Society, whose members had ministered so nobly and generously to the suffering community, no medicines were given out now, no orders for the grim appliances of burial, but strong soup and jellies for the convalescents, cordials and tonics for those who were still weak. The nurses and doctors, such of them as had been spared, were taking their departure, bearing away with them the thanks and