their
names on the register; the husband was congratulated; the wife was
embraced. They went back aga in to the house, with more flowers strewn
at their feet. The wedding-breakfast was hurried; the wedding-speeches
were curtailed: there was no time to be wasted, if the young couple were
to catch the tidal train.

In an hour more the carriage had whirled them away to the station,
and the guests had given them the farewell cheer from the steps of the
house. Young, happy, fondly attached to each other, raised securely
above all the sordid cares of life, what a golden future was theirs!
Married with the sanction of the Family and the blessing of the
Church--who could suppose that the time was coming, nevertheless, when
the blighting question would fall on them, in the spring-time of their
love: Are you Man and Wife?

CHAPTER THE THIRTY-SIXTH.

THE TRUTH AT LAST.

Two days after the marriage--on Wednesday, the ninth of September
a packet of letters, received at Windygates, was forwarded by Lady
Lundie's steward to Ham Farm.

With one exception, the letters were all addressed either to Sir Patrick
or to his sister-in-law. The one exception was directed to
"Arnold Brinkworth, Esq., care of Lady Lundie, Windygates House,
Perthshire"--and the envelope was specially protected by a seal.

Noticing that the post-mark was "Glasgow," Sir Patrick (to whom the
letter had been delivered) looked with a certain distrust at the
handwriting on the address. It was not known to him--but it was
obviously the handwriting of a woman. Lady Lundie was sitting opposite
to him at the table. He said, carelessly, "A letter for Arnold"--and
pushed it across to her. Her ladyship took up the letter, and dropped
it, the instant she looked at the handwriting, as if it had burned her
fingers.

"The Person again!" exclaimed Lady Lundie. "The Person, presuming to
address Arnold Brinkworth, at My house!"

"Miss Silvester?" asked Sir Patrick.

"No," said her ladyship, shutting her teeth with a snap. "The Person may
insult me by addressing a letter to my care. But the Person's name shall
not pollute my lips. Not even in your house, Sir Patrick. Not even to
please _you._"

Sir Patrick was sufficiently answered. After all that had
happened--after her farewell letter to Blanche--here was Miss Silvester
writing to Blanche's husband, of her own accord! It was unaccountable,
to say the least of it. He took the letter back, and looked at it again.
Lad