Betty had scarcely recovered from that break in the home circle when
Sally Tracy, with many blushes and much laughter, confessed that she,
too, was about to follow Pamela's example, and that a certain Mr. James
Gould, the gentleman from Branford, of whom Moppet had been so
suspicious, was the lucky individual upon whom she intended to bestow
her hand. Verily, with all these wedding-bells sounding, Betty began to
feel that she was likely to be left alone, but who only laughed gayly
when twitted with her fancy for maidenhood, and danced as merrily at
Sally's wedding as if her heart had lain light in her bosom instead of
aching bitterly for one whom she began to fear she should never see
more.
Little did Betty guess that bright October morning, when she and Moppet
went forth bent on a nutting excursion, that a courier was even now
speeding on his way whose coming would change the tide of her whole
existence. And when, as noon struck, Oliver Wolcott dismounted at the
door of his home and, walking straight to his father's study, delivered
a packet from General Wolcott to Miss Euphemia, his next move was a
descent upon Miss Bidwell's parlor and a hasty demand for Betty.
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