To this day they tell of the brilliant crowd gathered in the old church at Leeholme--of the noble men and beautiful women who came from all parts of England to assist at what was the grandest ceremony of the day. The only family of note in the country, absent, was the Lorristons; but among the costly array of wedding presents was a diamond necklace from Lord Lorriston, and a pearl bracelet from Lady Hermione, accompanied by the kindest of letters. Sir Ronald smiled bitterly when he saw them. His own presents to his young wife were superb in their magnificence. Did he think by lavish expenditure and great display to atone to her for the absence of that which he could not give her--his heart’s best love? CHAPTER XXI. MARRIAGE. The die was cast now. For weal or for woe, for better or worse, Sir Ronald and Lady Clarice were to spend the remainder of their lives together. They went abroad! They made the usual Continental tour, and then returned to Aldenmere. Lady Clarice was happy as the day was long. No bird singing in the shade of summer trees was half so blithe or gay. On one occasion he was speaking of the grand ball they must give on their return, and she said, half doubtingly: “Shall you invite the Lorristons, Ronald?” “Certainly. Why not? Lord Lorriston and I were always good friends.” “I fancied, perhaps, you would not like to meet his daughter.” “She will, in all probability, be Lady Eyrle then, and what can Kenelm Eyrle’s wife matter to me?” “I hear nothing now of their engagement,” she said, thoughtfully. He turned to her quickly. “It was you who told me about it--surely you remember?” “Oh, yes, perfectly; but I fancy it must be broken off, as I hear nothing of it.” He only said bitterly to himself that she had played with another heart and broken it; but for the remainder of all that day no smile or cheerful word came from him. Yet she did not notice it. She knew the power of her own beauty, and she would have deemed it simply impossible that the man upon whom she lavished all her love could give one thought to another. She was blind and deaf to the fierce contest going on in the heart and soul of her husband--to the war that never ended, between right and wrong. He would go to her at times with a wearied look on his face that never came from physical fatigue. He would lay his head down like a tired child, and say: “Clarice, sing to me.” She never said to herself that she was needed to drive away the demon of discontent; she only thought he preferred her singing to any other, and was flattered accordingly. Then the time came for them to return to Aldenmere, and great were the preparations. The little town of Leeholme was in a perfect fever of excitement. Triumphal arches were erected, flags were flying, the beautiful bells of Leeholme church pealed merrily, the tenants were all assembled to do honor to their lord.