hat a stupid, thoughtless thing I am."

She flung her arms about her cousin, and was again bursting into tears
when there was a tap at the door, and she shrank away.

"Come in."

One of the lady's maids appeared.

"Sir Mark says, ma'am, that the carriages are waiting, and Miss Jerrold
will not come up."

Myra took her bouquet and turned calmly to her cousin as the maid burst
out with:

"God bless you, Miss Myra--I mean madame. May you be very happy."

The second maid was at hand to second the wish, and the pair performed a
duet in sobs as the cousins swept down the broad staircase to the
admiral's room.

"Time, my dear, time," cried Sir Mark jovially. "Come, Edie, aunt will
be furious if you keep her any longer."

Edie took his arm, but dropped it again to run and kiss her cousin once
again. Then tripping to the old man's side he led her down the broad
staircase and across the hall, now pretty well thronged with visitors,
and the servants in the background to see the departure.

A carriage was in waiting, with a tall, stern looking, grey lady inside.

"Late, Mark," she said sharply. "Come Edie, my child, and let's get it
over."

"You're all alike," said the admiral, as the bridesmaid took her place,
the carriage started, and with head erect the old sailor strode back,
seeing nobody, and went up to his room, to return soon after, amid a
buzz of whispering, proudly leading down the bride.

"And only one bridesmaid," whispered a lady visitor at the hotel.

"Young widow--very private affair--by the lady's wish," was whispered
back loudly enough for Myra and her father to hear as they passed down
the steps.

"Let them chatter," said the old man to himself. "They haven't seen
such a bride for years."

Quite a little crowd followed to the hotel door, there was a general
waving of handkerchiefs, and one lady threw a bouquet of white roses as
the carriage door was shut with a bang, the servant sprang up, and the
next moment the admiral's handsome pair of bays dashed off toward the
great West End church.

CHAPTER FOUR.

THE SCENE OF SHAME.

"Poor old chap!" said Percy Guest, with a laugh. "Married? Looked as
if he was going to be hanged. Wonder whether I shall be as nervous and
upset if--if--I ought to say when--it comes off? No, not likely, bless
her. Might be all in a fidget to get it over for fear of a slip, but I
don't think I should look like that."

He was approaching the church as t