"You'll be my groomsman, Carr," said Hartledon. "We have no adherents; this is a strictly private affair."
"Did you send for Mr. Carr?" whispered the countess-dowager, looking white through her rouge.
"No; his coming has taken me by surprise," replied Hartledon, with a nervousness he could not wholly conceal.
They passed rapidly through the passages, marshalled by Hedges. Lord Hartledon led his bride, the countess-dowager walked with the clergyman, and Mr. Carr brought up the rear. The latter gentleman was wondering whether he had fallen into a dream that he should wake up from in the morning. The mode of procession was a little out of the common order of such affairs; but so was the marriage.
Now it happened, not very long before this, that Dr. Ashton was on his way home from a visit to a sick parishioner—a poor man, who said he believed life had been prolonged in him that his many years' minister should be at his deathbed. Dr. Ashton's road lay beyond Hartledon, and in returning he crossed the road, which brought him out near the river, between Hartledon and the Rectory. Happening to cast his eyes that way, he saw a light where he had never seen one before—in the little unused chapel. Peering through the trees at the two low diamond-paned windows, to make sure he was not mistaken, Dr. Ashton quickened his pace: his thoughts glancing at fire.
He was well acquainted with Hartledon; and making his way in by the nearest entrance, he dashed along the passages to the chapel, meeting at length one of the servants.
"John," he panted, quite out of breath with hurrying, "there's a light in the chapel. I fear it is on fire."
"Not at all, sir," replied the man. "We have been lighting it up for my lord's marriage. They have just gone in."
"Lighting it up for what?" exclaimed Dr. Ashton.
"For my lord's marriage, sir. He's marrying Lady Maude. It's the old dowager, sir, who has got it up in this queer way," continued the man, venturing on a little confidential gossip with his Rector.