"Ah! There is such a thing as counting your chickens before they are hatched, Mrs. Tesk," was the young man's dry reply.
"But you loved Mademoiselle Zara--or rather I should now say Mrs. Bracken."
"I admired her," corrected Owain. "I never loved her. She quite understood my feeling. I wish her and Bracken all manner of luck."
"So do I, Mr. Hench. After all, if two people are tenderly attached, why should they not wed?"
"Why, indeed? When were they married?"
"Yesterday, at a Registrar's office. I scarcely look upon such a civil contract as a marriage myself, Mr. Hench, as such a ceremony should surely be sanctified by the blessing of the Church. But married they are according to the law of the land, and I expect they will leave me now."
"Why should they?"
"Because Madame Alpenny will never allow them to live under the same roof as herself. She is a very determined woman, Mr. Hench. I shall be sorry to lose the company of the bridal pair," said poor Mrs. Tesk, wiping away a tear, "as I highly approve of their young affection. It's so romantic. Ah!" she rose suddenly and opened the door. "They have broken the news. Hark!"
Madame Alpenny certainly was not pleased. She stood at the head of the stairs anathematizing the bridal pair as they descended arm in arm. Zara was weeping and Bracken's stolid face wore an angry expression. Moved to the depths of her being, Mrs. Tesk was about to rush out and console them when her skirts were plucked by Hench.
"Don't say that I am here," he whispered, and the landlady nodded comprehendingly as she disappeared.