w she
could not explain to herself why she had held her peace. It seemed to
her as though she must have been mad to have let day after day go by
at Rome and never to have mentioned to him the name of Sir Francis
Geraldine. But such, alas! had been the fact. And now the time had
come in which she found it to be impossible to tell the story. As
she went for the last time to her solitary bed she endeavoured to
console herself by thinking that he must have heard of it from other
quarters. But then again she declared that he in his nobility would
certainly not have been silent. He would have questioned her and then
have told her that all was right between them. But now as she tossed
unhappily on her pillow she told herself that all was wrong.

CHAPTER VI.

WHAT ALL HER FRIENDS SAID ABOUT IT.

And "all went merry as a marriage bell." George Western and Cecilia
Holt were married in the cathedral by the Dean, who was thus supposed
to show his great anger at his brother-in-law's conduct. And this was
more strongly evinced by the presence of all the Hippesleys;--for all
were there to grace the ceremony except Maude, who was still absent
with her young squire, and who wrote a letter full of the warmest
affection and congratulations, which Cecilia received on that very
morning. Miss Altifiorla also came to the cathedral, with pink bows
in her bonnet, determined to show that though she were left alone in
her theory of life she did not resent the desertion. And Mrs. Green
was there, humble and sweet-tempered as ever, snubbing her husband
a little who assisted at the altar, and whispering a word into her
friend's ears to assure her that she had done the proper thing.

It is hardly necessary to say that on the morning of her wedding it
was in truth impossible for Cecilia to tell the story. It had now to
be left untold, with what hope there might be for smoothing it over
in some future stage of her married life. She had done the deed now,
and had married the man with the untold secret in her heart. The sin
surely could not be of a nature to weigh so deeply on her conscience!
She endeavoured to comfort herself with that idea again and again.
How many girls are married who have been engaged to, or at least in
love with, half-a-dozen suitors before the man has come who is at
last to be their lord! But Cecilia told herself, as she endeavoured
thus to find comfort, that her nature was not such as theirs. This
thing which she had