When they made love, he seemed to shift into the realm of possessiveness. Sometimes it seemed that she would never recover it. 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. “It is a night of endings,” she murmured to herself. A short way off in the fields he descried a sort of shed or cow-house, and thither he contrived to drag his weary limbs.
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