the mothers of all the marriageable girls of the neighbourhood.

The man in the oriel went to the wedding; not as a guest, for at this
time he was but slightly acquainted with the parties; but mainly because
the church was close to his house; partly, too, for a reason which moved
many others to be spectators of the ceremony; a subconsciousness that,
though the couple might be happy in their experiences, there was
sufficient possibility of their being otherwise to colour the musings of
an onlooker with a pleasing pathos of conjecture. He could on occasion
do a pretty stroke of rhyming in those days, and he beguiled the time of
waiting by pencilling on a blank page of his prayer-book a few lines
which, though kept private then, may be given here:-

AT A HASTY WEDDING

(Triolet)

If hours be years the twain are blest,
For now they solace swift desire
By lifelong ties that tether zest
If hours be years. The twain are blest
Do eastern suns slope never west,
Nor pallid ashes follow fire.
If hours be years the twain are blest
For now they solace swift desire.

As if, however, to falsify all prophecies, the couple seemed to find in
marriage the secret of perpetuating the intoxication of a courtship
which, on Maumbry's side at least, had opened without serious intent.
During the winter following they were the most popular pair in and about