the rear. The latter gentleman was wondering
whether he had fallen into a dream that he should wake up from in the
morning. The mode of procession was a little out of the common order of
such affairs; but so was the marriage.

Now it happened, not very long before this, that Dr. Ashton was on his
way home from a visit to a sick parishioner--a poor man, who said he
believed life had been prolonged in him that his many years' minister
should be at his deathbed. Dr. Ashton's road lay beyond Hartledon, and
in returning he crossed the road, which brought him out near the river,
between Hartledon and the Rectory. Happening to cast his eyes that way,
he saw a light where he had never seen one before--in the little unused
chapel. Peering through the trees at the two low diamond-paned windows,
to make sure he was not mistaken, Dr. Ashton quickened his pace: his
thoughts glancing at fire.

He was well acquainted with Hartledon; and making his way in by the
nearest entrance, he dashed along the passages to the chapel, meeting at
length one of the servants.

"John," he panted, quite out of breath with hurrying, "there's a light in
the chapel. I fear it is on fire."

"Not at all, sir," replied the man. "We have been lighting it up for my
lord's marriage. They have just gone in."

"Lighting it up for what?" exclaimed Dr. Ashton.

"For my lord's marriage, sir. He's marrying Lady Maude. It's the old
dowager, sir, who has got it up in this queer way," continued the man,
venturing on a little confidential gossip with his Rector.

Dr. Ashton paused to collect his wits ere he walked into the chapel. The
few wax-candles the servants had been able to put about only served to
make the gloom visible. The party were taking their places, the young
clergyman directing them where to stand. He opened his book and was
commencing, when a hand was laid upon Hartledon's shoulder.

"Lord Hartledon, what is the meaning of this?"

Lord Hartledon recognised the voice, and broke into a cold perspiration.
He gave no answer; but the countess-dowager made up for his silence. Her
temper, none of the mildest, had been considerably exasperated by the
visit of the fox-hunters; it was made worse by the arrival of Mr. Carr.
When she turned and saw what _this_ formidable interruption was, she lost
it altogether, as few, calling themselves gentlewomen, can lose it. As
she peered into the face of Dr. Ashton, her own was scarlet and yellow,
and her voice rose