Time? He drew out his watch, and a flush of shame and vexation crossed his countenance, as he saw that it was close upon the hour when he should be at the church. "I must be mad!" he exclaimed; and then he started aside, as close behind came the sound of galloping hoofs from the direction of Lexville. "They are coming to seek the tardy bridegroom," he said with a little laugh; "but _she_ will forgive me." "Is this the way to the house--Mr Charles Vining's?" cried a voice roughly. "Yes; what do you want?" said Charley. "I am Mr Vining." "Letter, sir," said the man hastily. "I was to ride for life or death; and I was afraid I should be too late." "Too late for what?" said Charley hastily. "To catch you before you went to church, sir," said the man. "I heard as I came through that there was a wedding." The next instant Charley had taken the letter, and was gazing at the direction; but he did not recognise the hand. "Where do you come from?" he said. "Is it very important? I am engaged." And then he stopped; for he hardly knew what he was saying, and he dreaded to open the letter. "Better read and see, sir," said the man gruffly. "My horse is dead beat." Rousing himself, he tore open the envelope, and read a few lines, reeled back on to the sward by the road, struggled to regain his firmness, and then, with a countenance white as ashes, he read to the end, when a groan tore its way from his breast. That, then, was the meaning of the strange forebodings, of that soft pleading face; and now it was too late, too late! "Curses, the bitterest that ever fell, be on them!" he muttered, grinding his teeth, and in his clenched fists that letter was crushed up to a mere wisp. "And now it is too late! No, not yet;" and to the surprise of the messenger he turned and dashed off furiously towards the house, where upon the broad entrance steps stood Sir Philip and the two friends anxiously awaiting him, the former watch in hand. The chariot with its four fine horses, and postillions in their gay new liveries of blue and silver, was at the door, and another open carriage behind; while a couple of servants were running at a distance in the park, evidently in search of him. "My dear Charley, we shall be late," cried Sir Philip, as, wet and spattered with mud, his son dashed furiously up. "How you have excited yourself to get back! Pray make haste." "Stand back!" cried Charley hoarsely, as, bounding up to the steps, he tore open the chariot-door and leaped in, dragging the door after him. The next moment he had dashed down the front window, and shouted to the postillions to go on. The men turned in their saddles, touched their caps, and before Sir Philip and his friends could recover from their surprise, the carriage was going down the avenue at a sharp trot.