She felt stupid and heavy,
and the excitement she had undergone on the previous evening had in
its recoil reduced her to a state of almost inertia.
The slow hours dragged themselves along, and Bet's wedding-day, the
day when parson could make her and Will one--when, the license being
there, and the necessary formalities gone through, they might really
stand up in God's house and have the sacred knot tied between them
forever--had arrived.
It was a dull, foggy morning, with a drizzling mist. No matter; it was
their wedding-day, thought Will, and no one could be more cheerful
than he as he donned his becoming sailor suit and brushed his curly
hair, and made himself look as spruce and neat as any jack-tar in the
land. Rain and mist were nothing to this son of the briny ocean, the
sunshine was in his heart, and he could scarcely believe in the
wonderful good fortune which was to give him the brightest, the dearest,
the handsomest girl in the town.
"Wish me luck, Mrs. Jobling," he said, as he rushed downstairs and
encountered his sour-faced landlady in the tiny entrance hall--"I'm
to be wed this morning to Bet Granger, the finest and the best lass
in Liverpool.
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