rom his task; but the anxiety of Mr. Benfield overcoming his fear of
the worst, he inquired in tremulous tone--

"Peter? hem! Peter, what do you think?"

"Why, your honor," replied the steward, stealing a look at his master, "it
does seem so indeed."

"I remember," said the master, "when Lord Gosford saw the marriage of the
countess announced he--"

Here the old gentleman was obliged to stop, and rising with dignity, and
leaning on the arm of his faithful servant, he left the room.

Mrs. Wilson immediately took up the paper, and her eye catching the
paragraph at a glance, she read aloud as follows to her expecting friends:

"Married by special license, at the seat of the Most Noble the Marquess of
Eltringham, in Devonshire, by the Right Rev. Lord Bishop of ----, George
Denbigh Esq., Lieutenant Colonel of his Majesty's ---- regiment of
dragoons, to the Right Honorable Lady Laura Stapleton, eldest sister of
the Marquess. Eltringham was honored on the present happy occasion with
the presence of his grace of Derwent, and the gallant Lord Pendennyss,
kinsmen of the bridegroom, and Captain Lord Henry Stapleton of the Royal
Navy. We understand that the happy couple proceed to Denbigh Castle
immediately after the honey-moon."

Although Mrs. Wilson had given up the expectation of ever seeing her niece
the wife of Denbigh, she felt an indescribable shock as she read this
paragraph. The strongest feeling was horror at the danger Emily had been
in of contracting an alliance with such a man. His avoiding the ball, at
which he knew Lord Henry was expected, was explained to her by this
marriage; for with John, she could not believe a woman like Lady Laura
Stapleton was to be won in the short space of one fortnight, or indeed
less. There was too evidently a mystery yet to be developed, and she felt
certain one that would not elevate his character in her opinion.

Neither Sir Edward nor Lady Moseley had given up the expectation of seeing
Denbigh again, as a suitor for Emily's hand, and to both of them this
certainty of his loss was a heavy blow. The baronet took up the paper, and
after perusing the article, he muttered in a low tone, as he wiped the
tears from his eyes, "Heaven bless him: I sincerely hope she is worthy of
him." Worthy of him, thought Mrs. Wilson, with a feeling of indignation,
as, taking up the paper, she retired to her own room, whither Emily, at
that moment returned from her walk, had proceeded. As her niece mu