Charles.
Mary Wells waited.

"May Heaven's curse light on that marriage, and no child of theirs ever
take my place in this house!"

"A-a-men!" said Mary Wells.

"Thank you, sir!" said Sir Charles. He took her voice for a man's, so
deep and guttural was her "A--a--men" with concentrated passion.

She closed the door and crept back to her mistress.

Lady Bassett was seated at her glass, with her hair down and her
shoulders bare. Mary clinched her teeth, and set about her usual work;
but very soon Lady Bassett gave a start, and stared into the glass.
"Mary!" said she, "what _is_ the matter? You look ghastly, and your
hands are as cold as ice. Are you faint?"

"No."

"Then you are ill; very ill."

"I have taken a chill," said Mary, doggedly.

"Go instantly to the still-room maid, and get a large glass of spirits
and hot water--quite hot."

Mary, who wanted to be out of the room, fastened her mistress's back
hair with dogged patience, and then moved toward the door.

"Mary," said Lady Bassett, in a half-apologetic tone.

"My lady."

"I should like to hear what the bride is like."

"I'll know that to-night," said Mary, grinding her teeth.

"I shall not require you again till bedtime."

Mary left the room, and went, not to the still-room, but to her own
garret, and there she gave way. She flung herself, with a wild cry,
upon her little bed, and clutched her own hair and the bedclothes, and
writhed all about the bed like a wild-cat wounded.

In this anguish she passed an hour she never forgot nor forgave. She
got up at last, and started at her own image in the glass. Hair like a
savage's, cheek pale, eyes blood-shot.

She smoothed her hair, washed her face, and prepared to go downstairs;
but now she was seized with a faintness, and had to sit down and moan.
She got the better of that, and went to the still-room, and got some
spirits; but she drank them neat, gulped them down like water. They
sent the devil into her black eye, but no color into her pale cheek.
She had a little scarlet shawl; she put it over her head, and went into
the village. She found it astir with expectation.

Mr. Bassett's house stood near the highway, but the entrance to the
premises was private, and through a long white gate.

By this gate was a heap of stones, and Mary Wells got on that heap and
waited.

When she had been there about half an hour, Richard Bassett drove up in
a hired carriage, with his pale little wife besi