He began to try and prepare; he affected business visits to distant places, etc., in order to break off by degrees. By this means their meetings were comparatively few. When they did meet (which was now generally by written appointment), he tried to prepare by telling her he had encountered losses, and feared that to marry her would be a bad job for her as well as for him, especially if she should have children. Mary replied she had been used to work, and would rather work for a husband than any other master. On another occasion she asked him quietly whether a gentleman ever broke his oath. “Never,” said Richard. In short, she gave him no opening. She would not quarrel. She adhered to him as she had never adhered to anything but a lie before. Then he gave up all hope of smoothing the matter. He coolly cut her; never came to the trysting-place; did not answer her letters; and, being a reckless egotist, married Jane Wright all in a hurry, by special license. He sent forward to the clerk of Huntercombe church, and engaged the ringers to ring the church-bells from six o'clock till sundown. This was for Sir Charles's ears. It was a balmy evening in May. Lady Bassett was commencing her toilet in an indolent way, with Mary Wells in attendance, when the church-bells of Huntercombe struck up a merry peal. “Ah!” said Lady Bassett; “what is that for? Do you know, Mary?” “No, my lady. Shall I ask?” “No; I dare say it is a village wedding.” “No, my lady, there's nobody been married here this six weeks. Our kitchen-maid and the baker was the last, you know. I'll send, and know what it is for.” Mary went out and dispatched the first house-maid she caught for intelligence. The girl ran into the stable to her sweetheart, and he told her directly. Meantime Lady Bassett moralized upon church-bells. “They are always sad--saddest when they seem to be merriest. Poor things! they are trying hard to be merry now; but they sound very sad to me--sadder than usual, somehow.” The girl knocked at the door. Mary half opened it, and the news shot in--“'Tis for Squire Bassett; he is bringing of his bride home to Highmore to-day.” “Mr. Bassett--married--that is sudden. Who could he find to marry him?” There was no reply. The house-maid had flown off to circulate the news, and Mary Wells was supporting herself by clutching the door, sick with the sudden blow. Close as she was, her distress could not have escaped another woman's eye, but Lady Bassett never looked at her. After the first surprise she had gone into a reverie, and was conjuring up the future to the sound of those church-bells. She requested Mary to go and tell Sir Charles; but she did not lift her head, even to give this order. Mary crept away, and knocked at Sir Charles's dressing-room. “Come in,” said Sir Charles, thinking, of course, it was his valet.