I can't stand so much crying

Pale and trembling, Mrs. Heartwell took her place beside her daughter, as she stood before the venerable minister. For years the Rev. Mr. Pratt had been their pastor and spiritual adviser, and his heart was filled with deep emotion as he pronounced the solemn words that bound this child of his love and watchful care to her husband, to be "His servitor for aye." Amid smothered sobs, he invoked Heaven's benediction upon their wedded hearts, praying that, as love had directed this union, so love might attend them, even unto death. Amid sighs and tears, the congratulations were received, and when at length Fred Pinckney found a moment to whisper in George Marshall's ear, he said, with characteristic drollery, "By Jupiter? I'll be glad when the coach comes. I can't stand so much crying; it's more like a funeral than a wedding. If they are obliged to blubber this way when a fellow marries, I think I shall back out." Another hour and the bridal party had departed. The fair flower of Melrose was gone, changed from a lonely maiden to a happy, hopeful bride; gone to follow the footsteps of a true, brave-hearted husband,-gone from Melrose, leaving many aching hearts behind; leaving, too, a vacancy that no succession of years could ever quite fill. A fortnight after the quiet wedding in Melrose, late one afternoon, George Marshall and his wife were walking slowly along the ever-thronged battery of the Queen City, whither they had come on a visit to Captain Marshall's uncle, Dr. Thornwell. A serious expression rested upon the young captain's face, as he surveyed the long lines of tents that dotted the open square and bordered the broad street-so serious indeed, that he scarcely heeded the passers-by who were bowing salutations to him and his fair bride. "George, you seem so abstracted; you scarcely noticed Frank Brewster as he passed just now in the brett with Florence Dale. What's the matter, dear?" "I'm troubled, perplexed, pondering, my dear. Yet I did not mean to be so abstracted. I must beg your forgiveness, as well as that of my friends." "Oh! never mind me, George; only tell me what troubles you."