when they asked her if she had been lonesome.

That night, for the first time, she mentioned her father's name
in her prayers. She never forgot to do so afterwards. She
always said, "bless mother--and father," with an instinctive
pause between the two names--a pause which indicated new
realization of the tragedy which had sundered them. And the tone
in which she said "father" was softer and more tender than the
one which voiced "mother."

Rachel never visited the Cove again. Isabella Spencer discovered
that the children had been there, and, although she knew nothing
of Rachel's interview with her father, she told the child that
she must never again go to that part of the shore.

Rachel shed many a bitter tear in secret over this command; but
she obeyed it. Thenceforth there had been no communication
between her and her father, save the unworded messages of soul to
soul across whatever may divide them.

David Spencer's invitation to his daughter's wedding was sent
with the others, and the remaining days of Rachel's maidenhood
slipped away in a whirl of preparation and excitement in which
her mother reveled, but which was distasteful to the girl.

The wedding day came at last, breaking softly and fairly over the
great sea in a sheen of silver and pearl and rose, a September
day, as mild and beautiful as June.

The ceremony was to be performed at eight o'clock in the evening.