"Yes; John Temple is married to Miss Churchill; must have married her two days after he left here in the autumn, when he said he went to Paris--that must have been his wedding trip." Mrs. Temple started to her feet, and her face flushed and then grew pale. "Is this possible?" she said. "Are you sure?" "Mr. Churchill has just been here, and he brought with him a copy of the register of their marriage. There can be no mistake, and yet I do not understand John's conduct, or why he was so reticent about it, when I distinctly told him that if he had induced her to leave her home that it was his duty to make her his wife." "There is something to hide, something he is keeping back!" cried Mrs. Temple, excitedly. "But you say they are actually married?" "They are certainly married, and Rachel, now that the thing is done, we must try to make the best of it. Naturally it is not what I wished for John--still--" "I should think not!" interrupted Mrs. Temple, scornfully. "A tenant farmer's daughter--truly her pretty face has made her fortune!" "Well, it is done, and when I hear from John I mean to write to him; after all the girl is good and pretty, and he might have done worse." "Not well, I think," answered Mrs. Temple, bitterly, and then she left the room, full of excitement and anger. The news of John Temple's marriage was indeed very bitter to her. Unconsciously she had learnt to like him too well for one thing, and for another she disliked, nay hated, the whole Churchill family. The boys had played in the fatal game when her little son was killed, and she had always felt a strange jealousy of May's beauty. And now she was Mrs. John Temple, the wife of the heir of Woodlea! reflected Mrs. Temple, with curling lips. But she was too much excited to keep the news to herself. She therefore hastily put on her hat and cloak, and started for the vicarage to tell her mother. She felt a sort of grim pleasure in thinking what a rage Mrs. Layton would be in when she heard it. And she certainly was not disappointed in this. Her arrival was most unexpected and inconvenient, for she rarely went to her father's house, and on this unfortunate morning Mrs. Layton was engaged in what she called "dressing her feathers," that is, all the feathers that she could collect from the fowls eaten at the Hall or at the vicarage were eagerly saved and stored away by Mrs. Layton until she had acquired a sufficient quantity to have a grand assortment of them. She was therefore sitting covered with feathers in her store-room, when she was told that her daughter, Mrs. Temple, was waiting below to see her. She tried to shake herself free of the feathers, but with many still clinging to her hair and dress she finally descended, by no means in a good humor. Mrs. Temple was standing looking out of the window as she entered the room, and she gave rather a hard laugh when she saw her mother's extraordinary appearance. "Whatever have you been doing?" she said.