"I'm going to be married on Saturday at meeting," said Matthew.
"Well, I guess I'll go then Saturday morning."
"You're going to your sister?" asked Matthew kindly, putting his hand into his pocket. "I'll pay you now--for the whole week, though it isn't due till Monday."
Mrs. Sassaman did not hold out her hand and Matthew laid the money in her lap, the last full salary he would have to pay for domestic service. Suddenly he was amazed. Mrs. Sassaman rose and the money dropped to the floor.
"You're doing wrong, Matthew," said she slowly. "You were always such a headstrong boy, but I never thought you would be such a cruel boy. Religion is right, so far, but not farther."
Matthew said nothing, but went out the door and down the road to pay a last visit to Millie. Mrs. Sassaman did not make him uncomfortable even for a moment--such is the sustaining power of a good conscience. He supposed that she was alluding to Ellen, but what she said was unimportant.
On Saturday morning he told Ellen the hour of his wedding.
"It will be in the afternoon in the Saal. I suppose you will hardly come."
"You take things too hard, Ellen. We've got to live, no matter what happens!"
"But not rejoice!" said Ellen tragically to herself. Then she said aloud, "You'll come here for supper before you go away?"
"We'll go to her folks for supper. You are invited also, but I said I didn't think you would go. We'll come here later."
"You're going away for a trip?" asked Ellen, suddenly alarmed. "I don't mean for a long trip, but for a little journey?"
"Of course not. I don't approve of such celebrations; they're expensive and they accomplish nothing but the spending of money. We shall come home."
"Home!" repeated Ellen when he had gone. "Oh, I wish they would not come home!"
She flung herself into the arms of a bonneted Mrs. Sassaman.
"Don't cry, Ellen! You're young yet. You don't have it as bad as I who have lost two husbands. The thing for you is to marry and spite them. Marry some one who will stand up for you and tell Matthew the meaning. That's the thing for you to do."
She climbed into the spring wagon beside Calvin and was gone.
The day had promised to be fine, but at nine o'clock a soft rain began to fall. At ten o'clock Matthew came downstairs dressed in his best clothes and drove away. The pleasant courtesies once natural were forgotten or ignored in their mutual embarrassment and he did not bid his sister good-bye. It was not altogether pleasant that one's wedding day should be rainy, but the fields needed rain and he was not disturbed.