And the drive home was a pleasant one. Restraint lifted as the boy prattled and madame overflowed in French. Isabel and Philip gave out to each other without fear or confusion. Then came the gay arrival, with servants waiting, and the boy's pony and cart in readiness for a time postponed. But the mother no longer dreaded temporary parting, for now she was sure of her little son's will power. Since the confidence of early morning her heart had felt free. Throughout luncheon she planned for the boy's amusement during a month set apart for the honeymoon. There was much to be said about letters and surprises which were to arrive each day. Then when "mother dear" came back Reginald must drive her out into the country. Later the advent of kites would afford opportunity for an indulgent new father. The child was altogether satisfied. Isabel found no difficulty in slipping above for a change she had almost feared to make. When she came down dressed for traveling her son was so happy with his pony and cart that the equipage marking a bride's departure seemed to be purely incidental to the main interest of the afternoon.
With quick embraces, a farewell hand wave, Isabel and Philip were gone. The old slipper, flung by madame, hit the carriage and fell to the ground.
"At last!" said Philip; and his wife responded with a happy smile. The afternoon trip to St. Barnabas had begun. The two were sitting in the Pullman, at liberty to forget everything in the world but their wedding journey. As yet it was too soon to regard the future; the present was all satisfying. Isabel began to speak of their marriage ceremony, as most brides are apt to do. "How simple and easy it all was," she declared. "I shall always love that darling chapel among the hills. Did you feel the spring coming through the open windows? And did you hear the meadow lark on our way back? Oh, I loved it all."
Her husband smiled at her natural joy. Then peering into Philip's face Isabel saw again that his cheeks were thin. If anything he was more distinguished looking, yet already she feared for his health. He had been working too hard, and the next month must do wonders for the man she loved. "At St. Barnabas we shall live out of doors every moment of the day," she declared. "I can hardly wait to show you that wonderful country. It will be perfect to go about in the saddle; how glad I am that we sent the horses on ahead and in full time."