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The old county families, if they did wonder at her marriage, were always glad to meet her brother, and it was a great pleasure to him to see old friends. Only once did his sister, in the course of the evening, make him feel the difference of their sentiments, and that was about Miss Wellwood.
It was to Wellwood that she went to be married. From the old home of the Careys she was driven to the old church of the Pennycuicks, full of mouldering monuments to a nearly vanished race; it was buried in its rural solitude, far from railways and gossip-mongers and newspaper reporters, and the wedding was as quiet as quiet could be. Guthrie was acting brother, and gave her away.
She had, if she followed her usual course, to pass the Wellwood Inn, but she could diverge, and by taking a side street and walking a half-mile farther reach home without coming in sight of the inn. She did so to-day. When she reached the side street she turned rather swiftly and gave a little sigh of relief. She was afraid that she might meet Harry Lawton. It was a lonely way.
Mildred's, but her first interview with Miss Wellwood, and Miss Jane's showing her a little white bed, quite turned the scale in their favour. Before the time came for Guy's return to Oxford, he had seen her settled, heard her own account of her happy life, and had listened to Miss Jane Wellwood's delight in her sweet temper and good disposition.
Again, the bishop wished me to marry the niece and heiress of the Dean of Lincoln; and my uncle, the alderman, proposed to me the only daughter of old Sloethorn, the great wine-merchant, rich enough to play at span-counter with moidores and make thread-papers of bank-notes; and somehow I slipped my neck out of both nooses, and married poor, poor Sophia Wellwood.
Yet, after all, when we entered the lofty iron gateway, when we drove softly up the smooth, well-rolled carriage-road, with the green lawn on each side, studded with young trees, and approached the new but stately mansion of Wellwood, rising above its mushroom poplar-groves, my heart failed me, and I wished it were a mile or two farther off.
"I'm not sure that my mind's sufficiently made up to put a definite proposal up to you," he said, striking the match thoughtfully. "As I say, Wellwood hasn't been doing so badly comparatively. And it hurts a company to make a change in its presidency it disturbs the whole organization, especially when an outsider is brought in over the heads of all the subordinates.
It seemed as well to inquire no further. The note was simple but positive. My uncle, Harry Wellwood, a cynical, pessimistic old bachelor and a rank Copperhead, wrote me to make the captain welcome, which meant much to those who knew my uncle. On that day the evening mail was large. Alphonse laid the letters on my table, and as he lingered I said, "Well, what is it?"
Guy wished it to be the sea-side; but Philip has been recommending a farmhouse in Stylehurst parish, rather nearer St. Mildred's Wells than Stylehurst, but quite out in the moor, and an immense way from both. 'Do you think it will be the place? 'Yes; Guy thinks it would suit Mr. Wellwood, because he has friends at St. Mildred's, so he gave his vote for it.
Wellwood rode over, or the Ashford boys rushed up, and followed like his shadow. At length, on Ascension day, the last before he was to leave Redclyffe, with a determination that he would escape for once from his pursuers, he walked to the Cove as soon as he returned from morning service, launched his little boat and pushed off into the rippling whispering waters.
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