"Indeed. Then what becomes of his great scheme of enjoying the money in his re-incarnated body?"

"It's a mystery," said Miss Challoner, laughing.

"I should think it was, and whatever will he makes now, leaving the property away from you, would not hold good, for he certainly is not in his right senses. You could claim as next-of-kin.""And I certainly should do so," replied Una, with decision. "But it is my opinion he'll live for a good long time yet."
"Humph! He's very ill."
"Creaking doors hang longest. But do not let us speculate on his death. I would rather we made our own fortune."
The use of the plural member had a delicious sound for Reginald, and he felt strongly tempted to there and then kiss his lady-love, but as they were now crossing the bridge and several people were about, he restrained himself until a more convenient season.
"Never mind the Squire and his money, dear," he said fondly, "for your sake I am going to be the Mario of the future."
"I'm sure you will," replied Una with the trustfulness of love, "you know I lived a long time in Germany and heard a number of good singers--your voice is quite as good as any, if not better."
"Flatterer!"
"Well, we'll see, Signor Reginald Mario," she said gaily, as they entered the churchyard, "when you are enchanting London audiences you will remember my prediction. You should cross the poor gipsy's hand with silver."
"Can't, mum," he retorted laughing; "I'm stone broke. However, there's no one about, so I'll do better--cross the gipsy's lips with kisses," and before she could draw back, this audacious young man put his words into action.
"Oh, Reginald!"
"Oh, Una," he mimicked lightly, "don't say a word or I'll take another. Come along, here's the church, and by Jove," as the sound of music broke on their ears, "there's Cecilia at the organ."
"And she's playing the Wedding March," cried Una blushing.
"It's a good omen, dear," he whispered, as they walked up the aisle, "this is like a rehearsal of marriage, isn't it?"
They both laughed gaily, and as their young voices rang through the empty church the organist turned round on her seat rapidly to the direction from whence the sound proceeded.
Cecilia Mosser was one of those light-coloured women who bear the same relation to a full-coloured blonde as a fireless opal does to the same stone with the red spark glowing under its opaque whiteness. While Una had all the characteristics of a true blonde, flushed with the roseate hue of a strong vitality, these same characteristics were reproduced in Cecilia with a distinct want of colour and of life. She had the same pale complexion, the same golden hair and the same blue eyes, but the complexion was a dead 

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