me moments
before she could grasp its full meaning.

No wedding! But the preparations were made--everything was ready. It
could not be stopped at the very last moment. She drew in her breath
with a quick, frightened respiration:

"Oh, father! is it true? Is she _sure_? Does she really mean it?"

"I am afraid there is no doubt about that, Hilary. Now that she has
summoned up courage to speak, she acknowledges that she has been unhappy
all along. She is in great distress, as is only natural. Norah is with
her. I put off disturbing you as long as I could, for you have had too
much fatigue lately, but I need your help, dear. You must get up at
once. We have some painful duties before us."

"Oh, father--Arthur! What will he--how will you--?"

Mr Bertrand drew a sharp sigh. "I have wired to him to stop all
preparations, and come down himself by the early train. He will be here
this afternoon. Poor fellow! he has been cruelly used. I am bitterly
ashamed. I have told Mary to bring you up a breakfast tray at once, and
here she comes; so eat as much as you can before you get up, and then
come to me in my study. Be brave! Remember I rely on your help!"

"Yes, father," said Hilary tremblingly; and the next moment Mary entered
the room, her rosy face awed and frightened, her ready tongue silenced
by the seriousness of the situation.

That breakfast seemed like a hideous nightmare to Hilary. Every moment
brought a fresh pang of recollection. In every direction in which her
eyes glanced, they lighted upon some object which accentuated her
misery--the long dress box, in which the bridesmaids' finery lay ready
for use; the pile of letters on the table; the hundred and one etceteras
of preparation. Could it be possible that they were all for nothing--
that she must now set to work to undo the labour of weeks? And the
misery of it all! the humiliation--the dreadful, dreadful publicity!
Hilary leapt out of bed in despair, unable to remain idle any longer,
dressed with feverish rapidity, and ran downstairs to join her father.
As she reached the foot of the staircase, Mr Rayner came forward to
meet her. Their hands met in a close, sympathetic grasp, but neither
spoke during the moment that it lasted. Then came the sound of a heavy
footstep on the tiled floor, and the village joiner crossed the hall on
his way to complete the erection of the tables in the dining-room. He
touched his cap to Hilary as he passed,