s to a respectable juvenility. He
had a good chest, stout limbs, a face inclined to be jolly. Mrs. Doria
had no cause to be put out of countenance at all by the exterior of her
son-in-law: nor was she. Her splendid hair and gratified smile made a
light in the church. Playing puppets must be an immense pleasure to the
practical animal. The Forey bridesmaids, five in number, and one Miss
Doria, their cousin, stood as girls do stand at these sacrifices,
whether happy, sad, or indifferent; a smile on their lips and tears in
attendance. Old Mrs. Todhunter, an exceedingly small ancient woman, was
also there. "I can't have my boy John married without seeing it
done," she said, and throughout the ceremony she was muttering audible
encomiums on her John's manly behaviour.

The ring was affixed to Clare's finger; there was no ring lost in this
common-sense marriage. The instant the clergyman bade him employ it,
John drew the ring out, and dropped it on the finger of the cold passive
hand in a businesslike way, as one who had studied the matter. Mrs.
Doria glanced aside at Richard. Richard observed Clare spread out her
fingers that the operation might be the more easily effected.

He did duty in the vestry a few minutes, and then said to his aunt:

"Now I'll go."

"You'll come to the breakfast, child? The Foreys"--

He cut her short. "I've stood for the family, and I'll do no more. I
won't pretend to eat and make merry over it."

"Richard!"

"Good-bye."

She had attained her object and she wisely gave way.

"Well. Go and kiss Clare, and shake his hand. Pray, pray be civil."

She turned to Adrian, and said: "He is going. You must go with him, and
find some means of keeping him, or he'll be running off to that woman.
Now, no words--go!"

Richard bade Clare farewell. She put up her mouth to him humbly, but he
kissed her on the forehead.

"Do not cease to love me," she said in a quavering whisper in his ear.

Mr. Todhunter stood beaming and endangering the art of the hairdresser
with his pocket-handkerchief. Now he positively was married, he thought
he would rather have the daughter than the mother, which is a reverse of
the order of human thankfulness at a gift of the Gods.

"Richard, my boy!" he said heartily, "congratulate me."

"I should be happy to, if I could," sedately replied the hero, to the
consternation of those around. Nodding to the bridesmaids and bowing to
the old lady, he passed out.

Adrian, who ha