with forced
deliberation, trying to appear undisturbed by what had occurred; for,
since it had happened, he wished his neighbours to think he had fully
expected it. And while so engaged he found opportunity to whisper to
Aspatria: "Now, my little lass, bear up as bravely as may be. It is
only one hour. Only one hour, dearie! Don't you try to speak. Only
keep your head high till you get home, darling!"

So the sad procession turned homeward, Aspatria sitting alone in her
carriage, William and Brune riding on either side of her, the squires
and dames bidden to the ceremony following slowly behind. Some talked
softly of the affair; some passionately assailed William Anneys for
not felling the villain where he stood. Gradually they said good-by,
and so went to their own homes. Aspatria had to speak to each, she had
to sit erect, she had to bear the wondering, curious gaze not only of
her friends, but of the hinds and peasant-women in the small hamlets
between the church and Seat-Ambar; she had to endure her own longing
and disappointment, and make a poor attempt to smile when the children
flung their little posies of late flowers into the passing carriage.

To the last moment she bore it. "A good, brave girl!" said Will, as
he left her at her own room door. "My word! it is better to have good
blood than good fortune: good blood never was beat! Aspatria is only a
little lass, but she is more than a match for yon villain! A big
villain he is, a villain with a latchet!"

The miserable are sacred. All through that wretched afternoon no one
troubled Aspatria. Will and Brune sat by the parlour fire, for the
most part silent. The rain, which had barely held off until their
return from the church, now beat against the window-panes, and
drenched and scattered even the hardy Michaelmas daisies. The house
was as still as if there had been death instead of marriage in it. Now
and then Brune spoke, and sometimes William answered him, and
sometimes he did not.

At last, after a long pause, Brune asked: "What was it Fenwick's
friend gave you? A message?"

"A message."

"You might as well say what, Will."

"Ay, I might. It said Fenwick would wait for me a week at the Sceptre
Inn, Carlisle."

"Will you go to Carlisle?"

"To be sure I will go. I would not miss the chance of 'throwing'
him,--no, not for ten years' life!"

"Dear me! what a lot of trouble has come with just taking a stranger
in out of the storm!"

"Ay, it is a