It fitted exactly. Captain Bohun had not allowed for the probability of those fragile fingers growing larger with years. As he held it on for a minute, their eyes met. Ellen suddenly recalled that long-past day in Dallory Church, when she had taken off Maria Warne's ring for Bessy North, the after-scene in the carriage, when Arthur Bohun put the other one on, and his sweet words: lastly, the scene in the garden when he put it on again. This was time the third. "If this should ever become too small for me?" she murmured, as he took it off the finger. "Oh, but that--if ever--won't be for ages and ages." Not for ages, and ages! If, in their innocent unconsciousness, they could only have seen the cruel Fate that was already coiling its meshes around them! The storm did not come that night. But whether, in revenge for the delay, it chose to expend itself with double violence, certain it was that such a storm had seldom been seen at Eastsea as raged in the morning. The sky was lurid and angry; the sea tossed itself in great waves; the wind whistled and shrieked; the rain dashed furiously down at intervals: all nature seemed at warfare. In much distress lay Mrs. Cumberland. Exceedingly subject of late to outer influences, whether it might be the storm that affected her, she knew not, but she felt unable to rise from her bed. The hour for the marriage was drawing on. It had been fixed for half-past eleven. The clergyman had a funeral at half-past ten; and Mrs. Cumberland had said that she herself could not be ready before that time. At a little after eleven Arthur Bohun came up in the fly that was to convey them to church. Mrs. Cumberland sent to ask him to go upstairs to her; and he found her in tears. A curious eight in so self-contained a woman. "I cannot help it, Captain Bohun: indeed I cannot. Had not the marriage better be put off for a day? I may be better tomorrow." "Certainly not," he answered. "Why should it be put off? I am very sorry for Ellen's sake; she would have felt happier had you been in church. But your presence is not essential to the ceremony, Mrs. Cumberland." "Her father and mother were my dear friends. It seems as though I should fail in my duty if I were to allow her to go to church without me." Arthur Bohun laughed. He would not listen to a word--was it likely that he would do so? In less than an hour's time all responsibility in regard to Ellen would be transferred to himself, he answered, for he should be her husband. "The marriage will be perfectly legal, dear Mrs. Cumberland, though you do not witness it," were his last words as he went downstairs. Ellen was ready. She wore an ordinary silk dress of light quiet colour, and a plain white bonnet: such as she might have walked out in at Eastsea. There was nothing, save her pale face and quivering lips, to denote that she was a bride. To have to go to church alone was very unpalatable to her, and she could with difficulty suppress her tears.