erest. Her surface could always respond to his
without contempt, though all her deeper being might be yearning to help
him. She had abandoned any plan of action. Love is the best, and the
more she let herself love him, the more chance was there that he would
set his soul in order. Such a moment as this, when they sat under fair
weather by the walks of their future home, was so sweet to her that
its sweetness would surely pierce to him. Each lift of his eyes, each
parting of the thatched lip from the clean-shaven, must prelude
the tenderness that kills the Monk and the Beast at a single blow.
Disappointed a hundred times, she still hoped. She loved him with too
clear a vision to fear his cloudiness. Whether he droned trivialities,
as to-day, or sprang kisses on her in the twilight, she could pardon
him, she could respond.

"If there is this nasty curve," she suggested, "couldn't we walk to the
church? Not, of course, you and Evie; but the rest of us might very well
go on first, and that would mean fewer carriages."

"One can't have ladies walking through the Market Square. The Fussells
wouldn't like it; they were awfully particular at Charles's wedding.
My--she--our party was anxious to walk, and certainly the church was
just round the corner, and I shouldn't have minded; but the Colonel made
a great point of it."

"You men shouldn't be so chivalrous," said Margaret thoughtfully.

"Why not?"

She knew why not, but said that she did not know. He then announced
that, unless she had anything special to say, he must visit the
wine-cellar, and they went off together in search of Burton. Though
clumsy and a little inconvenient, Oniton was a genuine country-house.
They clattered down flagged passages, looking into room after room,
and scaring unknown maids from the performance of obscure duties. The
wedding-breakfast must be in readiness when they come back from church,
and tea would be served in the garden. The sight of so many agitated
and serious people made Margaret smile, but she reflected that they
were paid to be serious, and enjoyed being agitated. Here were the lower
wheels of the machine that was tossing Evie up into nuptial glory. A
little boy blocked their way with pig-pails. His mind could not grasp
their greatness, and he said: "By your leave; let me pass, please."
Henry asked him where Burton was. But the servants were so new that they
did not know one another's names. In the still-room sat the band, who
ha