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Meade, L. T., 1854-1914

"A Girl of the People"

He was glad the day had really arrived, and thought to
himself how relieved his poor girl would be, and how he could laugh
at the unreasonable fear which she had shown two nights ago. He had
certainly never guessed that Bet was nervous; but she had shown the
most unreasonable, the queerest terror when last they had met. Well,
it was all right now, and he could prove to her how vain were her
alarms.
The doors of the church were not yet opened when the little wedding
party of three met. Bet's face was still pale, and her eyes had a
tired, almost hunted expression. She came close to Will and took his
hand, utterly regardless of the significant looks of the passers-by.
The words and glances of the multitude were nothing to her at that
moment. She was holding her true love's hand; and the minutes were
flying, flying, and the danger that she dreaded must be even now on
their heels.
"What ail's you, Bet?" whispered Will, tenderly. "I'm here, and the
hour ha' come. In a minute or two now nought can sever us.


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