So the time passed on, and the period appointed for Helen's marriage drew near. The wedding was to be a very quiet one, as Lady Mitford had insisted on its taking place at her house, and the first year of her widowhood would have expired only a few weeks before the time for the marriage.
Mrs. Chisholm, Mrs. Mitford, the young baronet, and the Reverend Cuthbert Farleigh (rector of Everingham and principal on this auspicious occasion), Helen, and her hostess, were assembled at Lady Mitford's house on the last evening but one before the event. They were all together in the drawing-room, and were engaged in discussing the chances for and against the arrival of Sir Laurence Alsager in time for the wedding.
"I am afraid he has made a mistake," said Cuthbert, "about a steamer to Trieste. I can find no announcement of one for a week to come."
"No, no," said Helen; "Laurence said he would come, and Laurence will be here. I would not give him up if we were all in the church."
"What do you think, Lady Mitford?" asked Sir Edward; "I'm awfully anxious to see this Sir Laurence you and Helen are for ever jawing about,--I'm sure he's awfully jolly, though I suppose he's no end of a swell."
The Reverend Cuthbert Farleigh considered it his duty to correct the young gentleman's vernacular at this juncture, and Lady Mitford did not appear to have heard the question. At all events she allowed it to remain unanswered.
At this moment a servant brought Helen a note. "Come by hand from the Clarendon, ma'am," he explained.
Helen exclaimed rapturously:
"It's from Laurence! He's in London! We shall see him to-morrow! There, Cuthbert, you incredulous person, will you ever doubt Laurence's promise or dispute my opinion again?"
"Certainly not, after the day after to-morrow, Nelly," replied Cuthbert.