Viviette passed the remainder of that long summer day, during which
her young husband was receding towards the capital, in an almost
motionless state. At some instants she felt exultant at the idea of
announcing her marriage and defying general opinion. At another her
heart misgave her, and she was tormented by a fear lest Swithin
should some day accuse her of having hampered his deliberately-
shaped plan of life by her intrusive romanticism. That was often
the trick of men who had sealed by marriage, in their inexperienced
youth, a love for those whom their maturer judgment would have
rejected as too obviously disproportionate in years.

However, it was now too late for these lugubrious thoughts; and,
bracing herself, she began to frame the new reply to Bishop
Helmsdale--the plain, unvarnished tale that was to supplant the
undivulging answer first written. She was engaged on this difficult
problem till daylight faded in the west, and the broad-faced moon
edged upwards, like a plate of old gold, over the elms towards the
village. By that time Swithin had reached Greenwich; her brother
had gone she knew not whither; and she and loneliness dwelt solely,
as before, within the walls of Welland House.

At this hour of sunset and moonrise the new parlourmaid entered, to
inform her that Mr. Cecil's head clerk, from Warborne, particularly
wished to see her.

Mr. Cecil was her solicitor, and she knew of nothing whatever that
required his intervention just at present. But he would not have
sent at this time of day without excellent reasons, and she directed
that the young man might be shown in where she was. On his entry
the first thing she noticed was that in his hand he carried a