‘He never loved me,’ she thought. ‘It was Bella’s pretty face that he really cared for. But he thought my fortune would help him in doing good, and he was willing to sacrifice his own inclination in order to be useful to others. He liked me just well enough, perhaps, to be reconciled to the idea of marrying me and making use of my fortune. And then when the slander arose he drew back. Honour forbade him marrying a woman the world suspected of a hideous crime, and whom he did not love.’ Bitter thoughts for the bride of to-morrow! Tuesday morning had come. Mr. Scratchell had called at the Water House to tell Miss Harefield that everything was done according to her wish. The equitable charge on Kenrick’s estate had been paid off. Culverhouse Castle was as free as it had been in the reign of its wealthiest possessors. ‘I am very glad it is done,’ said Beatrix, and it was the first gladness she had shown for some days. Madame Leonard wanted her to be interested in her trousseau, which was being packed by that clever little Frenchwoman and the honest unhandy English maid. Everything had been left to Madame Leonard. Beatrix had taken no trouble about this mountain of new clothes which people had declared she must have, as if to mark distinctly that to get married is to turn over a new leaf in the volume of life. ‘It is all well to let me do in these things, to choose ze colours, and to devise ze modes, but it must be that you interest yourself a little now that it is all achieved, or I shall think you are not content,’ remonstrated Beatrix’s companion. ‘Dear Madame Leonard, I am more than content. But I am not very fond of fine clothes. They do not fill my mind as they seem to do with some people.’ ‘Ah, my dear,’ cried the Frenchwoman, ‘it is all very well to be high and mighty; but I can tell you there are times in a woman’s life when if she did not think about her dress she would have nothing to think of. And it is better to think of a new gown than a new lover. That amuses. And after all it is innocent. To talk of dress does no one any harm. It is not like scandal.’ ‘Dear Madame Leonard, you are wiser than I. But never mind the trousseau just now. Please pack my plainest dresses and wraps in one trunk. I am not going to travel with all those huge boxes, am I?’ ‘No, the biggest of those are to be sent straight to India. And the smaller are to meet you at Brindisi.’ Sir Kenrick and his bride were to spend their honeymoon in Paris and in Italy, travelling by easy stages to Brindisi, whence they were to start for India early in April, a fact which Mrs. Dulcimer bitterly bewailed. ‘I thought Kenrick would sell out,’ she said, ‘and that you would divide your lives between Culverhouse Castle and the Water House.’ ‘That would have been to spoil Kenrick’s career, just as it promises distinction,’ answered Beatrix. ‘I should regard that as a kind of assassination.’