“Dear me,” she said, “I fancy you exaggerate my fame. The rogue took everything we had. Anna was singing as she used to sing. Young and old were dressed in their gayest apparel; and it was evident from the smiles that lighted up every countenance, from the roguish looks of the younger swains, and the demure expression of several pretty rustic maidens, that a ceremony, which never fails to interest all classes,—a wedding,—was about to take place. Danger, in the form he apprehended, was lurking outside: nor was he destined to enjoy long repose. “What did you say?” “Well, I considered myself justified in denying it,” Anna answered drily. Lucy did her best to avoid talking about it, but the subject was beguiling, as it almost always brought news about him from the grapevine within which Michelle was intravenously entwined.
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