ark eyes met his downward glance
with timid answering love.

There was no train of bridesmaids; only pretty Mrs. Heron leaning on the
arm of a dark-haired young man hitherto unknown in Foxholm, and holding
by the other hand little Ozzy, who exulted less in his new velvet cap and
tunic, than in the notion that he was bridesman to Tin-Tin.

Last of all came a couple whom the villagers eyed yet more eagerly than
the bride and bridegroom: a fine old gentleman, who looked round with
keen glances that cowed the conscious scapegraces among them, and a
stately lady in blue-and-white silk robes, who must surely be like Queen
Charlotte.

'Well, that theer's whut I coal a pictur,' said old 'Mester' Ford, a true
Staffordshire patriarch, who leaned on a stick and held his head very
much on one side, with the air of a man who had little hope of the
present generation, but would at all events give it the benefit of his
criticism. 'Th' yoong men noo-a-deys, the're poor squashy things--the'
looke well anoof, but the' woon't wear, the' woon't wear. Theer's ne'er
un'll carry his 'ears like that Sir Cris'fer Chuvrell.'

'Ull bet ye two pots,' said another of the seniors, 'as that yoongster
a-walkin' wi' th' parson's wife 'll be Sir Cris'fer's son--he fevours
him.'

'Nay, yae'll bet that wi' as big a fule as yersen; hae's noo son at all.
As I oonderstan', hae's the nevey as is' t' heir th' esteate. The
coochman as puts oop at th' White Hoss tellt me as theer war another
nevey, a deal finer chap t' looke at nor this un, as died in a fit, all
on a soodden, an' soo this here yoong un's got upo' th' perch istid.'

At the church gate Mr. Bates was standing in a new suit, ready to speak
words of good omen as the bride and bridegroom approached. He had come
all the way from Cheverel Manor on purpose to see Miss Tina happy once
more, and would have been in a state of unmixed joy but for the
inferiority of the wedding nosegays to what he could have furnished from
the garden at the Manor.

'God A'maighty bless ye both, an' send ye long laife an' happiness,' were
the good gardener's rather tremulous words.

'Thank you, uncle Bates; always remember Tina,' said the sweet low voice,
which fell on Mr. Bates's ear for the last time.

The wedding journey was to be a circuitous route to Shepperton, where Mr.
Gilfil had been for several months inducted as vicar. This small living
had been given him through the interest of an old friend who had some