'You know that I adore her,' he said. 'I shall be her slave.'
'Be a good husband, honest and true. She doesn't want a slave,' replied
Miss Wendover, in her incisive way.
Ida flung her arms round that generous friend's neck, and kissed her with passionate fervour.
'God bless you for your goodness to me! God bless you for forgiving me,' she said.
'He is a Being of infinite love and pity, and He will not bless those who cannot pardon,' answered Miss Wendover. 'There, my dear, go and be happy with your young husband. He may not be such a very bad bargain, after all.'
This was, as it were, the old shoe thrown after the bride and bridegroom. In another minute the dog-cart was rattling along the lane, Brian driving, and the groom sitting behind with Ida's luggage, which was more important by one neat black trunk than it had been a year ago.
Bessie and the younger children were standing on the patch of grass outside The Knoll gates, in garden hats, and no gloves, waving affectionate adieux. Brian gave them no chance of any further leave-taking driving towards the downs at a smart pace. 'Do you remember my driving you to catch the earlier train, a year ago this day?' he asked his pale companion, by way of conversation.
'Yes, perfectly.'
'Odd, isn't it?—exactly one year to-day.'
'Very odd.'