here, and
tied them with one of the thin rushes from the mass at his feet. An
hour after, enclosed in an envelope, they were laid on Isa's
dressing-table, where she found them, and as had wept of old her mother,
she had wept, for she guessed from whence that simple bouquet had come.
She kissed them, held them to her breast, and then sank upon her knees,
sobbing hysterically for the love she felt that, in spite of all
revelations, she could not crush down, for she thought she was alone.
But it was not so, for Jane McCray had entered unperceived, and started
and turned pale as she saw the tiny flowers and the envelope in which
they had arrived.

"True-blue," she said aloud, for her thoughts had reverted to the past;
and then, trembling with superstitious dread, "Miss Isa," she said,
"throw those flowers away--they're fatal, and bring nothing but misery
and despair to those who wear them. All those long years ago, and it
seems only yesterday that your poor mamma brought a bunch from the
marsh. If he has sent you those, it was cruel and heartless of him, at
such a time."

And angry with the maid who must have brought them, Jane made as if to
take them from her mistress's hand; but she stopped half way, trembling
more than ever, as she saw Isa press the simple blossoms to her breast
with both hands, her head thrown back, her blue-veined eyelids closed,
and her lips moving rapidly--for there, on her knees, she was invoking
Heaven's blessing on the sender, and praying for strength to carry her
through her trials.

Jane's anger had passed away, when, after a few minutes, she assisted
Isa to a couch; for there was something in the poor girl's face that
troubled her, and kept her hovering round as from a strange kind of
fascination.

Was she going to be ill? Had her poor nerves been drawn too tightly?
And would they snap beneath the unfair tension? At one time it seemed
to Jane McCray, when Isa started up as if listening, that there would be
no wedding the next morning.

But the preparations went on, and Sir Murray entertained a select party
at dinner. My lord, the Viscount, was in excellent spirits, and paid
frequent visits to the decanters. Certainly, a week had passed since
the money was due, but then he had written to Braham, telling him of the
day of the wedding; and the money-lender had sent a congratulatory
reply, to say that it was "all right," and that he very much regretted
his inability to attend himself.