But Mr. Blake-Gordon had not yet said his last farewell to his betrothed wife; and lovers never think that can be spoken often enough. He found her in the music-room, seated before the organ. She was waiting for her father.
"We shall have Raven's Priory, Mary," he whispered, speaking in accordance with his thoughts, in his great hopefulness; and his voice was joyous, and his pale face had a glow on it not often seen there. "Your papa himself says how beautiful the gardens and conservatories are."
"Yes," she softly answered, "we shall be sure to have it."
"I may not stay, Mary: I only came back to tell you this. And to wish you goodnight once again."
Her hand was within his arm, and they walked together to the end of the music-room. All the lights had been put out, save two. Just within the door he halted and took his farewell. His arm was around her, his lips were upon hers.
"May all good angels guard you this happy night--my love!--my promised wife!"
He went down the corridor swiftly; she stole her blushing face to the opening of the door, to take a last look at him. At that moment a crash, as of some frail thing broken, was heard in the card-room. Mr. Blake-Gordon turned into it Mary Ursula followed him.
The beautiful Dresden vase lay on the stone flags of the hearth, shivered into many atoms. It was one that Mary Ursula set great store by, for it had been a purchase of her mother's.
"Oh papa! How did it happen?"
"My dear, I swept it off unwittingly with my elbow: I am very sorry for it," said Mr. Peter Castlemaine.