‘I have got a fly to drive her home,’ he said to the pew-opener. ‘Bring her as soon as you can. It is getting cold here.’ The wind had risen. The tall poplars were swinging against the chill evening sky. The old yew was groaning drearily, like a giant in pain. Cyril waited silently, and as silently accompanied Beatrix, when she was able to move slowly towards the gate, leaning on Mrs. Pomfret as she went. He handed her into the fly, with Mrs. Pomfret, who was to see her safe at home, directed and paid the driver, and waited bareheaded till the fly was out of sight. A wild white face looked out at him from the carriage window. CHAPTER VIII. KENRICK’S WEDDING DAY. THE evening after that meeting in the churchyard was a melancholy one for Kenrick. He had counted upon spending it with Beatrix. The settlements were to have been signed at the Water House at nine o’clock, the Vicar, Mr. Scratchell, and Sir Kenrick meeting there for that purpose. When nine o’clock came Sir Kenrick and the two trustees were assembled in Miss Harefield’s drawing-room, Mr. Scratchell’s clerk in attendance with the documents, and ready to sign as witness whenever required; but Miss Harefield herself was not forthcoming. They waited some time, Sir Kenrick full of uneasiness, and then Madame Leonard came to them, looking pale and worried. ‘I am sorry to have bad news for you, Sir Kenrick,’ she said, in her pretty French, ‘but Miss Harefield is much too ill to sign any papers, or to see any one to-night. Is it absolutely necessary these papers should be signed?’ ‘They must be signed before she is married,’ said Mr. Scratchell, ‘but it can be done in the vestry, five minutes before the wedding, if she likes.’ ‘But what is the matter?’ asked Sir Kenrick. ‘She was very well--or she seemed very well--when I was with her yesterday.’ ‘She is far from well to-night. She is nervous and low-spirited. It would be cruelty to insist upon her coming downstairs to receive you.’ ‘I am not going to be cruel,’ said Kenrick, moodily. ‘Perhaps it is cruel of me to ask her to marry me to-morrow. Her low spirits to-night seem to indicate that the prospect is repugnant to her.’ ‘Don’t be savage, Kenrick,’ said the Vicar. ‘A young lady’s nerves are a delicate piece of mechanism, and a trifle will put them out of order. The settlements had better stand over till to-morrow morning. We can all meet here at ten.’ ‘But I want to know why she is ill, or out of spirits,’ urged Kenrick. ‘Has Mr. Namby seen her?’ he asked abruptly of Madame Leonard. ‘No. She is hardly so ill as to need medical advice. She wants repose, to be left to herself for a little while, not to be worried about business matters. She wished to have no marriage settlement. The whole thing is an annoyance to her.’ ‘She wished to play the fool,’ muttered Mr. Scratchell, ‘but I wasn’t going to let her make ducks and drakes of the whole of her property.’