But he stared at the early day mentioned.
"Marriages can't be got up as soon as that."
"They can be got up in a day if people choose, with a special license;
which, of course, you will have," said the dowager. "I'll arrange things,
my dear Val; leave it all to me. I intend Maude to be married in the
little chapel."
"What little chapel?"
"Your own private chapel."
Lord Hartledon stared with all his eyes. The private chapel, built out
from the house on the side next Calne, had not been used for years and
years.
"Why, it's all dust and rust inside; its cushions moth-eaten and fallen
to pieces."
"Is it all dust and rust!" returned the dowager. "That shows how
observant you are. I had it put in order whilst you were in London; it
was a shame to let a sacred place remain in such a state. I should like
it to be used for Maude; and mind, I'll see to everything; you need not
give yourself any trouble at all. There's only one thing I must enjoin
on you."
"What's that?"
"_Secrecy._ Don't let a hint of your intentions get abroad. Whatever you
do, don't write a word to that Carr friend of yours; he's as sharp as a
two-edged sword. As well let things be done privately; it is Maude's
wish."
"I shall not write to him," cried Hartledon, feeling a sudden heat upon
his face, "or to any one else."
"Here's Maude. Step this way, Maude. Hartledon wants the ceremony to take
place on Saturday, and I have promised for you.
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