not all--will be
lifted, if I can know that I shall, under Providence, leave the
succession settled. You and I are old men, Wilfred--I am very near the
grave. It is our duty to see, as far as lies within our power, that the
future of the house is set upon a sound foundation. Your son, Derrick,
will be a worthy successor; Celia--I need say nothing in her praise; she
has won all our hearts, and she will lend a lustre to the title that
will come to her."

A fortnight is not a long time in which to prepare the trousseau of a
future Marchioness; but, with Lady Gridborough's enthusiastic
assistance, Celia did her best; though, it must be confessed, she did
not attach so much importance to this matter of the trousseau as it
usually demands and receives from the bride elect; in fact, though Lady
Gridborough has been described as an assistant, she bore the lion's
share of the business, while Celia, as Lady Gridborough expressed it, in
homely language, "gadded about, and mooned" with her lover.

She wanted a quiet wedding, but the church was full, and some ardent
spirits had insisted upon decorating it, and an avenue of children,
clothed in white and armed with flower blossoms to throw upon the
pathway of the bride. Reggie was best man; and, consciously or
unconsciously, had the air of one who had brought about the whole
affair.

"If you had fixed the date a day later," he confided to Derrick, as he
helped him into the regulation frock coat, and impressed upon him the
solemn fact that the wedding ring was in the right-hand pocket of his
waistcoat, "you'd have had to find another best man; for Susie and I are
going to be married to-morrow at a quiet little church not a hundred
miles from here. Ours is going to be really a quiet wedding: bride and
bridegroom; parson, pew-opener and perhaps two sniffling children. We
are going straight to France; address uncertain. And we're going to live
there--that's one of the advantages of my profession, one of the
precious few advantages; you can carry it on anywhere."

"I'm glad," said Derrick, as he wrung Reggie's hand. "No wonder you look
so happy to-day: and I thought it was on my account!"

"So it is--partly," said Reggie. "You see, you're filling the bill so
eminently satisfactorily. Between you and me, it isn't often that the
hero in real life--in real life and out of fiction, mind you!--finishes
up the last chapter looking absurdly happy in a frock coat and lavender
trousers. You'