make upon his courage that demand which every man's courage ought to
undergo in such an affair, and which Margaret's conduct had precluded
in his coming to an understanding with her.

But however disquieting the task was to approach, it could be only
successful at the end; for indeed Mr. Faringfield, with all his
external frigidity, could refuse Phil nothing. In giving his consent,
which perhaps he had been ready to do long before Phil had been ready
to ask it, he made no allusion to Phil's going to England. He
purposely ignored the circumstance, I fancy, that in consenting to the
marriage, he knowingly opened the way for his daughter's visiting that
hated country. Doubtless the late conduct of Ned, and the intended
defection of Philip, amicable though that defection was, had shaken
him in his resolution of imposing his avoidance of England upon his
family. He resigned himself to the inevitable; but he grew more
taciturn, sank deeper into himself, became more icy in his manner,
than ever.

Philip and Margaret were married in February, four months before the
time set for their departure. The wedding was solemnised in Trinity
Church, by the Rev. Mr. Barclay, on one of those white days with a
little snow in the air, which I for one prefer over sunny days, in
winter, as far more seasonable. The young gentlemen of the town
wondered that Miss Faringfield had not made a better match (as she
might have done, of course, in each one's secret opinion by choosing
himself). The young ladies, though some of them may have regretted the
subtraction of one eligible youth from their matrimonial chances, were
all of them rejoiced at the removal of a rival who had hitherto kept
the eyes of a score of youths, even more eligible, turned away from
them. And so they wished her well, with smiles the most genuine. She