Nea said. Of course her father would be angry--fearfully
angry--but after a few hours he would calm down, and then he would
send the carriage for her; and there would be a scene of penitence and
reconciliation. Nea painted it all in glowing colors, but Maurice
shook his head with a sad smile, and begged her not to deceive
herself. Mr. Huntingdon might not forgive them for a long time, for he
remembered George Anderson, and the inexorable will that would have
condemned the young criminal to penal servitude.

And so one morning as Mr. Huntingdon was sitting by the open window
watching the children play in the May sunshine and wondering why his
daughter had not been to wish him good-morning, Nea had stolen out of
her father's house, and was hurrying through the sunny square and
green, deserted park until she found Maurice waiting for her, who
silently took her hand, and put her into the carriage.

Nea said afterward that it was that silent greeting of Maurice's, and
his cold touch, that first brought a doubt to her mind; during the
long drive he spoke little to her--only held her hand tightly; and
when at last they stood together in the dark old church with its
gloomy altar and white, gleaming monuments, the poor child gave a
shiver that was almost fear, and suddenly burst into tears. It had
come upon her all at once what she was doing, and why she was there;
but already it was too late, for while she was clinging to Maurice
with low, frightened sobs, the curate had hurried from the vestry and
had entered within the rails, and the pew-opener was beckoning them to
take their places.

Too late! too late! Ten minutes more and the knot was tied that no
hand could loosen, and Nea Huntingdon had become Nea Trafford.

* * * * *

But when they had left the gloomy old church in the distance, and were
driving through the crowded streets with their babel of voices, Nea's
courage and spirits revived; and presently she was tripping about
Maurice's shabby rooms, re-arranging the bowls of jonquils and lilac,
with which the landlady had made some show of festivity, unlooping the
stiff folds of the muslin curtains, and peeping into the corner
cupboards with the gleeful curiosity of a child, until, at her young
husband's gentle remonstrance, her seriousness returned, and she sat
down to write the formidable letter.

And how formidable it was Nea never imagined until she had tried and
failed, and then tr