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The last week in April had arrived and in a few days came Celeste's wedding. Hernando was returning from town after a call at his uncle's where his cousin Mary Genung was convalescing from typhoid fever. Eletheer De Vere had been with her and bravely nursed her through. Everything seemed strangely quiet, only the sound of the crushers breaking the stillness, and he strolled along so deeply absorbed in thought that he did not hear a light footstep behind him, and almost started when his arm was clasped by slim white fingers and a merry voice said playfully: "There, you naughty boy, I'm completely out of breath trying to catch up with you."

It was Celeste, and she raised her glowing face to his with an expression of mock severity.

"I certainly did not hear you, Celeste," he replied honestly.