The Colonel had not spoken, but he had business on the boat before she
cast her lines from the shore.
The daughter drew him into her stateroom and slipped her arms around his
neck. Few words were spoken and they were broken.
"Please, Father--please?--I love you--please--"
"No."
"I'm no longer a child. I'm a woman. You're a real man and you know I
could have no respect for myself if I should yield my life's happiness
to a whim--"
The old Colonel stroked her shoulder:
"I understand. You're a chip off the old block. You're just as stubborn
as I am. And--I--won't--eat--my--words."
With firm hand, he drew away and hurried from the boat.
The Taylor clan of Kentucky gathered for the wedding in force. The
romance appealed to their fancy. They loved their high-spirited,
self-poised little kinswoman and they liked the tall, modest, young
officer she had chosen for her husband. The stern old Colonel was not
there, but his brother and his three sisters and all their tribe made
merry at the wedding feast.
On the deck of the lazy river steamer, the bride and groom slowly
drifted down the moonlit shimmering way to the fields of Mississippi.
The bride nestled close to her lover's side in the long sweet silences
too deep for words.
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