They were passing the favourite old seat under the rocks. Ellen acquiesced, and they sat down. The black clouds grew larger and higher: but, absorbed in their own plans, their own happiness, had the heavens become altogether overshadowed it would have been as nothing to them. In low tones they conversed together of the future; beginning with the morrow, ending they knew not where. Their visions were of the sweetest rose-colour; they fully believed that bliss so great as their own had never been found on earth. His arm was round Ellen as they sat, her hand lay in his, her head seemed resting against his heart. To all intents and purposes they seemed as entirely alone in this sheltered nook as they could have been in the wilds of the desert. The beach was shingly; footsteps could not approach without being heard: had any one passed, they would have been seen sitting as decorously apart as though they had quarrelled: but the shore seemed deserted this afternoon.
The arrangement for the marriage was as follows:--At half-past eleven o'clock, Arthur, Ellen, and Mrs. Cumberland would enter the little church by a private door, and the ceremony would take place. Richard North was to have given her away, but that was over now. Arthur held the licence; he had made a friend of the clergyman, and all would be done quietly. He and Ellen were to go away for a few days; she would then return home with Mrs. Cumberland, and be to the world still as Miss Adair. After that, Arthur would take his own time, and be guided by circumstances for declaring the marriage: but he meant, if possible, to at once introduce Ellen to his aunt, Miss Bohun.
And Ellen Adair? Not a scruple rested on her mind, not a doubt or hesitation on her heart; her father had given his cordial approbation--as expressed in the letter to Mrs. Cumberland--and she was full of peace.
"Did you feel that, Ellen?"
A faint, quivering breeze had seemed to pass over them with sudden sharpness, and to die away in a moan.
Some white sails out at sea flapped a little, and the boats turned homewards.
"We had better be going, too, my love; or we may have it upon us."
She rose as he spoke, and they walked away. The sky was growing darker; the shades of evening were beginning to gather. Mrs. Cumberland had been lying down and was dressing, the maid said--if Captain Bohun would wait. Ellen took off her bonnet and mantle.
"Whilst we are alone, let me see that I have not made a mistake in the size, Ellen."
Taking from his pocket a bit of tissue-paper, he unfolded it and disclosed a wedding-ring. Ellen blushed vividly as he tried it on. "I--thought," she timidly began, "that you meant this to be my wedding-ring"--indicating the plain gold one she habitually wore on her right hand.