complicating them?

Will Locke and Dulcie had cast the die, and, on the first brush of the
affair, their friends at Redwater took it as ill as possible: Clarissa
was hysterical, Sam Winnington was as sulky as a bear. If this treatment
were to be regarded as a foreshadowing of what the behaviour of the
authorities at Fairfax would prove, then the actors in the little drama
might shake in their shoes. But Will Locke placidly stood the storm they
had brewed, only remembering in years to come some words which Dulcie
did not retain for a sun-down. Dulcie was now affronted and hurt, now
steady as a stepping-stone and erect as a sweet-pea, when either of the
two assailants dared to blame Will, or to imply that he should have
refrained from this mischief. Why, what could Will have done? What could
she have done without him? She was not ashamed to ask that, the moment
they reflected upon Will Locke, though she had not borne his name an
hour. Oh! child, child!

Notwithstanding, it was very trying to Dulcie when Clary protested
that she never would have believed that Dulcie could have stolen such
a march upon her; never. Dulcie to deceive her! Dulcie to betray her!
Poor Clary! Whom could she turn to for affection and integrity, in the
days that might remain to her in this wicked world? She had walked all
along the street with its four or five windows in every gable turned
to the thoroughfare, with her handkerchief at her eyes, while the
whole town was up, and each window full. She was so spent now, with
her exertions and her righteous indignation, that she sat fanning
herself in the bar: for Will and Dulcie could not even afford a
private room to receive their wedding company so summarily assembled.
Never was such a business, in Clary's opinion; not that she had not
often heard of its like--but to happen to a kind, silly, credulous
pair, such as Dulcie and Will Locke! Clary sat fanning herself, and
casting knots on her pocket-handkerchief, and glancing quickly at Sam
Winnington's gloomy, dogged face, so different from the little man's
wonted bland, animated countenance. What on earth could make Sam
Winnington take the wilful deed so much to heart? Hear him rating
Will, whom he had been used to patronize in a careless, gracious
style, but upon whom he now turned in strong resentment. These
reproaches were not unprovoked, but they were surely out of bounds;
and their matter and manner rankled in the breasts of both these men
many