"
Lady Maude advanced; she had really come in by accident; her head was
bent, her eyelashes rested on her flushed cheeks. A fair prize; very,
very fair! The old dowager put her hand into Lord Hartledon's.
"You will love her and cherish her, Percival?"
What was the young man to do? He murmured some unintelligible assent, and
bent forward to kiss her. But not until that moment had he positively
realized the fact that there would be any marriage.
Time went on swimmingly until the Saturday, and everything was in
progress. The old dowager deserved to be made commander of a garrison for
her comprehensive strategy, the readiness and skill she displayed in
carrying out her arrangements. For what reason, perhaps she could not
have explained to herself; but an instinct was upon her that secrecy in
all ways was necessary; at any rate, she felt surer of success whilst
it was maintained. Hence her decision in regard to the unused little
chapel; and that this one particular portion of the project had been long
floating in her mind was proved by the fact that she had previously
caused the chapel to be renovated. But that it was to serve her own turn,
she would have let it remain choked up with dust for ever.
The special license had arrived; the young clergyman who was to perform
the service was located at Hartledon. Seven o'clock was the hour fixed
for the marriage: it would be twilight then, and dinner over.
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