CHAPTER VIII.

NORINE’S WEDDING.

And what a walk back that was! When the lovers had exhausted the shanty--and that took some time, for Norine had to relate how she had found him lying on his face upon the floor, and how she had tried in vain to turn him into an easier position; and how she had run on to the Higgins’ and brought back help; and as the story was told falteringly, and interrupted by frequent demonstrations on the part of Clinton, all of which Norine permitted from necessity, it took some little time to fully illustrate the adventure; for Clinton had fallen face downward on the floor--much to Norine’s dismay--and had insisted upon her kneeling by his side and trying to lift his head as she had done. And when she had placed her soft arms around his neck, the graceless scamp had held them close and tight, while Norine blushingly protested that nothing of the sort had happened, and that he was not acting his part properly at all.

And when at last they did start homeward, what a pleasant walk it was!

Why, the very birds seemed to partake of their enjoyment, and one saucy chipmunk scampered along the path, and, running up on an old log, had sat and rubbed his face with his little paws and frisked his tail, nodded at them mischievously, and scampered off again, probably overcome by the sight of so much happiness.

And to see Norine pitying her lover’s weakness, making little blushing offers of assistance, until, unable to resist the temptation longer, he had gathered her up in his arms and held her there until she was fain to admit that he was plenty strong enough.

And when they were a little less idiotically happy, but still far too happy for mere words, they walked silently along, hand in hand, and finding the path plenty wide enough for them.

How happy they were! They had never seen such a pleasant afternoon, they said, not knowing, nor even caring, that they were never likely to see such another.

There was very little said during the walk. Clinton wondered what Jim would say; and Norine answered, with her eyes wide open with astonishment at the question, that Jim would be very glad. What could he say when he knew that she was so happy?

“We must never leave poor Jim, Clinton,” she said. “He has been _such_ a good brother, and I am all he has got.”

And Clinton, probably remembering his own forlorn state in the past, promised that she should never leave her brother unless she chose.

“I will go and tell him as soon as we get home,” said Clinton.

But Norine begged him not to.

“I must tell him,” she said. “He loves me, and when I tell him that our love will make no difference in the future, he will not mind it so much.”

“I suppose he must have known that you would get married some time?” said Clinton.

“Do you think so?” inquired Norine, considering the matter. “But I have never thought of it myself, sir,” with a bewitching raise of the eyebrows. “But,” she added thoughtfully, “I do not think Jim will ever marry, and I feel as if I were sacrificing his happiness for mine.”

Clinton protested vigorously against this view of the case, showing her that Jim would be the happier for seeing her happiness, and that Jim would be his brother, and that he--Clinton--would do all he could to contribute to his brother’s happiness.

And Norine thanked him with a glance from eyes dewy with happiness and love; and so, hand in hand they came out of the woods in front of the cottage.

They could see Jim, swinging along through the fields on his way home, as they crossed the road; and Norine could hardly refrain from running to meet him, and telling him then and there. She thought better of it, however, and entered the cottage to assist Mrs. Higgins in her preparations for supper.

There was no need of telling Mrs. Higgins. That penetrating female had arrived at a full and complete knowledge of the case as soon as she caught sight of Norine’s blushing face.

Mrs. Higgins snorted a little as she looked at Clinton, but her face softened wonderfully as Norine entered the kitchen.

“I wish ye ji, Norry,” she said.

“What on?” inquired Norine, blushing.

“On yer bo,” replied Mrs. Higgins sententiously.

And then Norine laid her head on the motherly breast, and cried silently but heartily for a moment, while Mrs. Higgins, fully understanding the case, smoothed her hair carelessly and wiped her own eyes furtively.

But when Norine had run away to bathe her eyes, lest Jim might see her crying, and misunderstand the cause, Mrs. Higgins went up to the closed door of Clinton’s room, and shook her fists at its unresponsive panels.

After shaking first one fist, and then the other, and then both at once, and finding herself greatly benefited by this vigorous exercise, she resumed her work with her face as stony and imperturbable as ever.

It was Jim’s habit, after the evening chores were done, to sit in front of the wide, old-fashioned kitchen fire and smoke. Norine took advantage of this habit to-night to tell him her secret.

So, when Jim came in, after making the animals comfortable for the night, he found her bustling around, making a great pretense of filling his pipe, and arranging things for his comfort. Jim noticed this, but being a wise young man, and probably somewhat prepared for what was to come, said nothing, but took his pipe from her with a look of thanks, and, sitting down, commenced to smoke. There was a tired, thoughtful look on the young man’s face--a discontented look almost--but Norine, too full of her own happiness, for once did not notice it.

“Jim,” she said softly, leaning over his chair from behind, with a round, soft arm on either shoulder, “Jim, I have something to tell you.”

“I am afraid I know it, Norry.”

“Afraid, Jim? You do not mean that, or you can not know what I was about to say.”

Jim said nothing, only stared into the blackened fireplace with a thoughtful face. His pipe was out, but from time to time he made a pretense of smoking.

“You are not angry, Jim?” asked Norine in a pitiful tone.

“Was I ever angry with you, my little sister?”

“No, Jim. You have been the best of loving brothers, and I want you to be so always. But you do not seem pleased, Jim.”

“Do you care for him, Norry?”

“I love him, Jim,” said Norine softly; “I love him better than I can tell, and he loves me.” And the glad lovelight filled her eyes.

Jim sat silent for a moment, and sighed heavily.

“I shall be very lonely without you, Norry,” he said, “but I have no wish but for your happiness. If you love him, dear, go to him, and I will help you all I can.”

Norine’s heart was deeply touched, and she wondered if this new love, that had so soon become a part of her being, would be as unselfish as the brotherly love she was leaving--no, not leaving--and she told Jim all that had been said by her lover and herself in the woods that day.

“I am not to leave you, Jim,” she said. “We want to stay here with you, and I want you to love him a little for my sake.”

And Jim kissed her and promised, and when he saw the look of contentment come back into her eyes he sent her away to join her lover.

But he could not clear his own brow so easily. Gentlemen visitors had never brought happiness to Bright Farm, and he could not dismiss the dark forebodings that filled his heart. This man was not likely to remain long content on that little mountain farm, and when he took Norine away among strangers, who would watch over her happiness?

He was sitting thus, absorbed in heavy thought, when they entered the room. He arose from his seat when he found them standing near him.

“We do not want you to sit alone, Jim,” said Norine, putting her arms around his neck and laying her soft cheek against his; “we want you to help us to be happy.”

What could he do? There was no use in clouding that happy face. What _must_ be _will_ be. And with this philosophical conclusion in his mind, Jim shook hands with Clinton and wished him joy, showing, Clinton thought, an amount of brotherly affection as delightful as it was unexpected. He even managed to joke with them a little as they gathered in their usual places around the kitchen fire. The jokes were rather lame, but still they _were_ jokes, and even poor jokes are better than anger or discontent.

Jim was at first inclined to object to an immediate marriage.

“Norine is young,” he said, “and you can both afford to wait a while. Perhaps it would be better for you,” he added quizzically, “if you wait a year or two. You will at least be sure of your own minds.”

“If that is all we need wait for, there need be no delay,” cried Clinton confidently. “I am sure that Norine loves me, and neither one year nor twenty could make any difference in my love for her.”

Norine looked at him proudly.

“I will wait if you think best, Jim,” she said quietly.

But Jim could hardly insist upon it; in fact, he could find no just reason for delay. They were both old enough to know their own minds, and as long as they did not intend leaving the farm, and were going to be married anyway, there was no valid reason why they should not be married at once.

After this was settled to the satisfaction of the lovers, Clinton left the little farm to be gone two weeks, and Jim drove Norine into town to make the few purchases necessary for her simple trousseau.

Another member of the Higgins family was impressed for duty at the little cottage, and for a short time all was bustle and excitement over the preparations for the simple wedding.

It was a very simple wedding, entirely without bridesmaids or other useless display; still, it was none the less impressive for the few friends that gathered at the simple ceremony, combined with the bright sunshine, the singing birds, and sweet flowers with which the cottage was decked to make the day a happy one.

Not that Norine needed any help; she was happy. Very, very happy!

Doctor Conway was there, laughing joyfully--too joyfully, perhaps, to be entirely natural, and his cheerfulness was belied somewhat by his set, white face and dim eyes.

I think Norine felt something of the truth when she put her face confidingly up to his to be kissed.

The memory of that confidence and that kiss made Lester Conway stronger forever after.