Sir Patrick has told me of the last
place that she has been traced to--and my lawyer will set the right
people at work. Come and help me to put it in the proper language, and
the whole thing will be in train."

"Oh, Arnold! can I ever love you enough to reward you for this!"

"We shall see, Blanche--in Switzerland."

They audaciously penetrated, arm in arm, into Sir Patrick's own
study--entirely at their disposal, as they well knew, at that hour
of the morning. With Sir Patrick's pens and Sir Patrick's paper
they produced a letter of instructions, deliberately reopening the
investigation which Sir Patrick's superior wisdom had closed. Neither
pains nor money were to be spared by the lawyer in at once taking
measures (beginning at Glasgow) to find Anne. The report of the result
was to be addressed to Arnold, under cover to Sir Patrick at Ham Farm.
By the time the letter was completed the morning had advanced to
ten o'clock. Blanche left Arnold to array herself in her bridal
splendor--after another outrage on propriety, and more consequences of
free institutions.

The next proceedings were of a public and avowable nature, and strictly
followed the customary precedents on such occasions.

Village nymphs strewed flowers on the path to the church door (and sent
in the bill the same day). Village swains rang the joy-bells (and got
drunk on their money the same evening). There was the proper and awful
pause while the bridegroom was kept waiting at the church. There was the
proper and pitiless staring of all the female spectators when the bride
was led to the altar. There was the clergyman's preliminary look at
the license--which meant official caution. And there was the clerk's
preliminary look at the bridegroom--which meant official fees. All the
women appeared to be in their natural element; and all the men appeared
to be out of it.

Then the service began--rightly-considered, the most terrible, surely,
of all mortal ceremonies--the service which binds two human beings, who
know next to nothing of each other's natures, to risk the tremendous
experiment of living together till death parts them--the service
which says, in effect if not in words, Take your leap in the dark: we
sanctify, but we don't insure, it!

The ceremony went on, without the slightest obstacle to mar its effect.
There were no unforeseen interruptions. There were no ominous mistakes.

The last words were spoken, and the book was closed. They signed