ened,
and on which she had been wont to fix her eyes during the Sunday
service while the rector preached. All at once this inanimate friendly
object seemed to take a new and unfamiliar air--seemed to whisper that
Clodagh Asshlin existed no more, and that the stranger who filled her
place was an alien. Her fingers tightened nervously on her husband's
arm and her steps involuntarily quickened.

Outside, in the calm, grey, misty atmosphere, they lingered for a
moment by the church door, in order to give Nance and Mrs. Asshlin the
opportunity of gaining the cottage before them; but both were ill at
ease, self-conscious, and acutely anxious to curtail the enforced
solitude. And it was with a sigh of relief, that Clodagh saw Milbanke
draw out his watch as an indication that they might start.

About the gate, the little group of curious idlers had been augmented.
And as Clodagh stepped to the carriage an irrepressible murmur of
admiration passed from lip to lip, succeeded by a cold and critical
silence as the bridegroom--well bred, well dressed, but obviously and
incongruously old--followed in her wake.

Clodagh comprehended and construed this chilling silence by the light
of her own warm appreciation of things young, strong, and beautiful.
And as she stepped hastily into the waiting carriage a flush of
something like shame rose hotly to her face.

The drive to the cottage scarcely occupied five minutes; and even had
they desired it, there was no time for conversation. Milbanke sat
upright and embarrassed; Clodagh lay back in her corner of the roomy
barouche, her eyes fixed resolutely upon the window, her fingers
tightly clasping the ivory prayer-book. One fact was occupying her mind
with a sense of anger and loneliness--the fact that her cousin Larry
had not been present in the church. Since the night on which her
engagement had been announced, the feud between the cousins had
continued. During the weeks of preparation for the wedding Larry had
avoided Orristown; but though no overtures had been made, Clodagh had
never doubted that he would be present at the ceremony itself. And now
that the excitement was passed, she realised with a shock of surprise
that she had been openly and unmistakably deserted.

The thought was uppermost in her mind as the carriage stopped; and when
her aunt came forward to greet them, her first question concerned the
absent member of the family.

"Where's Larry, Aunt Fan?" she asked.

"My de