Released from debt, and, above all, from the tortures of conscience and the consequences of his sin, he quickly recovered his health and spirits.
The remainder of the 2000l. he invested in a partnership with a rising firm in the city, and so steadily and cleverly have his business habits and tact been carried out, that the prospects of the firm are brighter than ever.
With relief from debt, that foe to peace of mind, a quiet conscience, and hopes of prosperity in business, his constitution, though greatly shaken, has recovered its elasticity, and the glow of health adds no little to the changed appearance of Arthur Franklyn.
He and his children still reside at Kilburn, indeed, now that they are about to lose Henry, neither Kate Marston nor her uncle can endure the thought of parting with them, and the children cling to her as to a second mother. Kate is still supreme manager of the domestic arrangements, in which she is willingly assisted by Clara, when not occupied with her sisters at their usual studies. A graduate of the university has been engaged to supply the place of Henry Halford, and the old Grange will subside into its usual routine when the bustle caused by this wedding shall be over.
Three carriages are still waiting for their occupants—Mr. Armstrong's and two others.
One of them bears on its panels the coronet of an earl, and on another may be seen the mitre of a bishop.
Mr. Armstrong's carriage is the first to draw up, and he himself appears in a vainly suppressed state of elation and excitement. His morning costume is faultless, and although a large sprinkling of white is observable in his dark hair, yet he bears his fifty-four years well. He had failed in his attempts to form an alliance with the aristocracy through his increasing wealth by the marriage of his daughter. Yet had he carried his point, such a marriage could scarcely have been attended with greater eclât than on the present occasion. This Mr. Armstrong now understood and acknowledged to himself without reservation. The bishop who had just married his daughter to Henry Halford, had been vice-principal of the young man's college at Oxford; the nobleman who had presented the living to his son-in-law—were both to be his guests at the wedding breakfast.
Lord Rivers had known the name of Armstrong from his boyhood. And the purse-proud merchant, who had been almost ashamed to acknowledge cousin Sarah before his clerks in Dover Street, stood back in surprise while the earl assisted that lady into his own carriage, where he had already placed Mrs. Armstrong. He then entered himself, and the carriage drove off on its way to Lime Grove.
Mr. Armstrong's own carriage was quickly filled with a party of young people; two juvenile bridesmaids, with their aunt Edith Longford, soon to be Mrs. Maurice, and Arthur and Freddy Armstrong, now a merry laughter-loving boy of eleven. There remained now only three gentlemen to accompany the bishop in his drive to Lime Grove, the rector of Kilburn, Horace Wilton, Henry's best man, and Mr. Armstrong. Perhaps the latter's foolish prejudices about clergymen were never more completely shaken than when he found himself seated in the bishop's carriage with that high church dignitary and the two gentlemen we have named. In fact, he wondered at himself that he could feel proud of the position. And now what can be said of the wedding breakfast, laid out in Mr. Armstrong's splendidly furnished dining-room? For this occasion Mrs. Herbert had obtained carte blanche from her sister to make any alterations she pleased, and the introduction of flowers and other ornaments, according to that lady's taste, had greatly improved the elegant appearance of the table and satisfied the hired waiters, who succumbed to that lady's superior knowledge at once and without a demur.
And what shall we say of the numerous yet select party who assembled around that elegant table? It was like all other wedding breakfasts, a medley of smiles and tears, of joyful hopes and sad regrets, painful memories and bright prospects. And yet there was something in the gathering round Mr. Armstrong's table which made it differ from similar associations. The preponderance of the clerical element did not cast a damper on the young and buoyant spirits then present. The bishop's genial, yet dignified manner, resembled that of the lamented Dr. Wilberforce. The rector, an old man approaching his eightieth year, belonged to the class of polished and refined gentlemen of olden times, who would take off their hats to the meanest of their female parishioners, or enter bareheaded the humblest cottage in the parish.