s claimed the Bishop.
On the Tuesday he sent his luggage over to Carwithiel, whither he was
to follow after the wedding service, to spend a day or two with Sir
Harry. It had been Honoria's wish that George should choose Taffy
for his best man; but George had already invited one of his sporting
friends, a young Squire Philpotts from the eastern side of the Duchy;
and as the date fell at the beginning of the hunting season, he
insisted on a "pink" wedding. Honoria consulted the Bishop by
letter. "Did he approve of a 'pink' wedding so soon after the
bride's confirmation?" The Bishop saw no harm in it.

So a "pink" wedding it was, and the scarlet coats made a lively patch
of colour in the gray churchyard: but it gave Taffy a feeling that he
was left out in the cold. He escorted his mother to the church, and
left her for a few minutes in the Vicarage pew. The bridegroom and
his friends were gathered in a showy cluster by the chancel step, but
the bride had not arrived, and he stepped out to help in marshalling
the crowd of miners and mine-girls, fishermen, and mothers with
unruly children--a hundred or so in all, lining the path or
straggling among the graves.

Close by the gate he came on a girl who stood alone.

"Hullo, Lizzie--you here?"

"Why not?" she asked, looking at him sullenly.

"Oh, no reason at all."

"There might ha' been a reason," said she, speaking low and
hurriedly. "You might ha' saved me from this, Mr. Raymond; and her
too; one time, you might."

"Why, what on earth is the matter?" He looked up. The Tredinnis
carriage and pair of grays came over the knoll at a smart trot, and
drew up before the gate.

"Matter?" Lizzie echoed with a short laugh. "Oh, nuthin'.
I'm goin' to lay the curse on her, that's all."

"You shall not!" There was no time to lose.

Honoria's trustee--the second cousin from London, a tall,
clean-shaven man with a shiny bald head, and a shiny hat in his
hand--had stepped out and was helping the bride to alight.
What Lizzie meant Taffy could not tell; but there must be no scene.
He caught her hand. "Mind--I say you shall not!" he whispered.

"Lemme go--you're creamin' my fingers."

"Be quiet then."

At that moment Honoria passed up the path. Her wedding gown almost
brushed him as he stood wringing Lizzie's hand. She did not appear
to see him; but he saw her face beneath the bridal veil, and it was
hard and white.

"The proud toad!" said Lizzie. "I'm no bet