heir arrangement which often
proceeds from the bosom of the whimsical god at other times known as
blind Circumstance. That his few minutes of hope, between the reading of
the first and second letters, had carried him to extraordinary heights of
rapture was proved by the immensity of his suffering now. The sun
blazing into his face would have shown a close watcher that a horizontal
line, which he had never noticed before, but which was never to be gone
thereafter, was somehow gradually forming itself in the smooth of his
forehead. His eyes, of a light hazel, had a curious look which can only
be described by the word bruised; the sorrow that looked from them being
largely mixed with the surprise of a man taken unawares.

The secondary particulars of his present position, too, were odd enough,
though for some time they appeared to engage little of his attention. Not
a soul in the town knew, as yet, of his wife's death; and he almost owed
Downe the kindness of not publishing it till the day was over: the
conjuncture, taken with that which had accompanied the death of Mrs.
Downe, being so singular as to be quite sufficient to darken the pleasure
of the impressionable solicitor to a cruel extent, if made known to him.
But as Barnet could not set out on his journey to London, where his wife
lay, for some hours (there being at this date no railway within a
distance of many miles), no great reason existed why he should leave the
town.

Impulse in all its forms characterized Barnet, and when he heard the
distant clock strike the hour of ten his feet began to carry him up the
harbour-road with the manner of a man who must do something to bring
himself to life. He passed Lucy Savile's old house, his own new one, and
came in view of the church. Now he gave a perceptible start, and his
mechanical condition went away. Before the church-gate were a couple of
carriages, and Barnet then could perceive that the marriage between Downe
and Lucy was at that moment being solemnized within. A feeling of
sudden, proud self-confidence, an indocile wish to walk unmoved in spite
of grim environments, plainly possessed him, and when he reached the
wicket-gate he turned in without apparent effort. Pacing up the paved
footway he entered the church and stood for a while in the nave passage.
A group of people was standing round the vestry door; Barnet advanced
through these and stepped into the vestry.

There they were, busily signing their