In July, Theodora March and Sir John Blood were married at St. George's, Hanover Square. The Archbishop of Canterbury performed the ceremony, the American minister gave the bride away, and the Prince of Wales signed the register. The settlements were splendid. Sir John voluntarily resigned all interest in Theodora's fortune in case he survived her. This affair about the settlements gave Theodora, a slight shock, as she turned it over in her mind. For the first time she realized what it was to marry a man with such a fatal facility for getting rid of his wives.
"Pshaw!" she said to herself, "no doubt the story books have exaggerated very much. There can't be a whole closet full. And he is such a delightful person, just like the charming man Heine met at the Spanish ambassador's, who turned out to be the devil. However, I'm an American"—and at this a mighty exultation filled her breast—"I am from that glorious land of pink and white tyranny. Sir John Blood can't frighten me with any children's stories of a closet full of defunct wives." And so she went on, to Anne's and her mother's distress and William McBean's intense amusement, who was willing to back Theodora against Blue Beard and give long odds any day.
Immediately after the marriage they went abroad, and after some months of travel they returned to England. Theodora had made but one request of her husband since her marriage. It was that her sister Anne might meet her in London and accompany her to Blood Hall. This Sir John granted with the uniform tenderness he had shown to her. It was a clear autumn evening when, after a rapturous meeting at the station, the sisters had traveled down to Suffolk, and for the first time found themselves alone in the drawing-room, while Sir John smoked his after-dinner cigar on the terrace.
"Theo," said Anne, placing her hands on her sister's shoulders. "Tell me, darling, are you happy?"
"Happy!" echoed Theodora brightly. "I am the happiest girl in the world, and Sir John is the best and kindest of men."
"Except Wil—"
"No, I don't except anybody. To think you and mamma should have disliked him so much. Anne, he's so changed sometimes I doubt if he is the real Bl— you know what. But if he is, he'll find out what kindness and firmness together can do—and American pluck and the habit of command."