caught the clatter of hoofs, and Tom Ware on a hard-ridden horse
dashed up; he was covered with dust and inarticulate with rage.
Then a cry came from him that was like the roar of some mortally
wounded animal.

"I forbid this marriage!" he shrieked, when he could command
speech.

"You're too late to stop it, Tom, but you can attend it," said
Norton composedly.

"You--you--" Words failed the planter; he sat his horse the
picture of a grim and sordid despair.

Mr. Bowen divided a look of reproach between his wife and
daughter; his own conscience was clear; he had told no one of the
purpose of Norton's call the night before.

"I'll tie the horses, Betty," said Norton.

Ware turned fiercely to Bowen.

"You knew better than to be a party to this, and by God!--if you
go on with it you shall live to regret it!"

The minister made him no answer, he thoroughly disapproved of the
planter. It was well that Betty should have a proper protector,
this half-brother was hardly that measured by any standard.

Norton, leading the horses, had reached the edge of the oaks when