ll go up and down, he won't say much. I know him. If he
asks you about her, don't be a fool, but say what you think of her
sensibly"--

No cork could hold in Ripton when she was alluded to. He shouted: "She's
an angel!"

Richard checked him: "Speak sensibly, I say--quietly. You can say how
gentle and good she is--my fleur-de-luce! And say, this was not her
doing. If any one's to blame, it's I. I made her marry me. Then go to
Lady Blandish, if you don't find her at the house. You may say whatever
you please to her. Give her my letter, and tell her I want to hear from
her immediately. She has seen Lucy, and I know what she thinks of her.
You will then go to Farmer Blaize. I told you Lucy happens to be his
niece--she has not lived long there. She lived with her aunt Desborough
in France while she was a child, and can hardly be called a relative to
the farmer--there's not a point of likeness between them. Poor darling!
she never knew her mother. Go to Mr. Blaize, and tell him. You will
treat him just as you would treat any other gentleman. If you are civil,
he is sure to be. And if he abuses me, for my sake and hers you will
still treat him with respect. You hear? And then write me a full account
of all that has been said and done. You will have my address the day
after to-morrow. By the way, Tom will be here this afternoon. Write out
for him where to call on you the day after to-morrow, in case you have
heard anything in the morning you think I ought to know at once, as Tom
will join me that night. Don't mention to anybody about my losing the
ring, Ripton. I wouldn't have Adrian get hold of that for a thousand
pounds. How on earth I came to lose it! How well she bore it, Rip! How
beautifully she behaved!"

Ripton again shouted: "An angel!" Throwing up the heels of his second
bottle, he said:

"You may trust your friend, Richard. Aha! when you pulled at old Mrs.
Berry I didn't know what was up. I do wish you'd let me drink her
health?"

"Here's to Penelope!" said Richard, just wetting his mouth. The carriage
was at the door: a couple of dire organs, each grinding the same tune,
and a vulture-scented itinerant band (from which not the secretest
veiled wedding can escape) worked harmoniously without in the production
of discord, and the noise acting on his nervous state made him begin to
fume and send in messages for his bride by the maid.

By and by the lovely young bride presented herself dressed for her
journey, an