Geoffrey Herne did not go to Australia, either alone, as he had arranged to do, or with Ellice as his wife, as he perhaps might have done; for at this time she would have followed him anywhere in the world--or out of it. But it was decided that they should remain in England, where Geoffrey had good practice as a barrister, in addition to his settled income of six hundred pounds, and be married in May--that is, in about six months. Mr. Quentin put on a portentous aspect when he was first informed of the affair, protruding his under lip and rubbing slowly behind his ear with his middle finger. He sighed and muttered something about having once anticipated a 'more brilliant future--no offence to you, Herne, of course--for his dear Ellice.' But as a matter of fact he was by no means averse to the match, if he had not actually done what he could to promote it. There is apt to be a good deal of humbug inwoven in the characters of elderly men who have seen better days and are not resigned to worse ones. Geoffrey perceived that Mr. Quentin desired to make a merit of doing what really was pleasing to him; and it was not in an expectant son-in-law's heart to object to that. So matters on that side went smoothly. To make the same remark regarding his relations with Ellice would be a triumph of understatement. These two found heaven in each other. 'I was made to love and to be loved,' she once said to him, as they sat together in the little parlour on Christmas Eve. 'Be sure you make me love you enough!' 'If you had told me to be sure to love you enough----' She smiled and said, 'Never mind about that: that will be my affair. But I must love so as to forget everything!' He was sitting on a low stool at her feet, his head leaning against her side. She let one arm fall about his neck, and her soft hand caressed his bearded cheek. 'As I love you at this moment,' she continued, in a tender murmur. He took her hand in his and kissed the soft palm. 'What is it you wish to forget?' he asked presently. 'To tell you would be to remember.' 'But I wish to know.' 'I am not your wife yet: I shall not tell you.... I wish to forget that I have only three dresses, and that you are not the eldest son of an earl.' Geoffrey leant back his head till he could see her face, and laughed. 'Don't! Worse things have happened,' she said quickly. 'Worse than what?' 'Nothing. Do you think me beautiful?' 'I love you too much to know whether you are beautiful or not. I used to think you were beautiful some time ago, I believe.' 'You do not know what I can be yet. Loving you will make me seem beautiful--even to you!' 'Is that why you want to love me?' 'I don't know. It suits me. I wanted it. I wanted many things, but that most--at least now. Don't you sometimes think it would be wise to die?' 'I haven't thought so since I thought of going to Australia.'