It could not be said the Church Leet chimes brought good when they rang
out that night at midnight, as the old year was giving place to the new.
Mrs. Carradyne, in her superstition, thought they brought evil.
Certainly evil set in at the same time, and Captain Monk, with all his
scoffing obstinacy, could not fail to see it. That fine young lad, his
son, fell through the window listening to them; and in the self-same
hour the knowledge reached him that Katherine, his eldest and dearest
child, had flown from his roof in defiant disobedience, to set up a home
of her own.

Hubert was soon well of his bruises; but not of the cold induced by
lying in the snow, clad only in his white nightshirt. In spite of all
Mr. Speck's efforts, rheumatic fever set in, and for some time Hubert
hovered between life and death. He recovered; but would never again be
the strong, hearty lad he had been--though indeed he had never been very
physically strong. The doctor privately hoped that the heart would be
found all right in future, but he would not have answered for it.

The blow that told most on Captain Monk was that inflicted by Katherine.
And surely never was disobedient marriage carried out with the impudent
boldness of hers. Church Leet called it "cheek." Church Leet
(disbelieving the facts when they first oozed out) could talk of nothing
else for weeks. For Katherine had been married in the church hard by,
that same night.

Special licenses were very uncommon things in those days; they cost too
much; but the Reverend Thomas Dancox had procured one. With Katherine's
money: everybody guessed that. She had four hundred a-year of her own,
inherited from her dead mother, and full control over it. So the special
license was secured, and their crafty plans were laid. The stranger who