"Do you think, all you who are here, that when I met him by chance at Tunbridge at a masquerade, and learnt that he meditated villainy of a different kind, to another woman whom I loved dearly, to that Ariadne Thorne for whom he took me, I would spare him? Never! She was there, too, at Tunbridge, though not at the masquerade, and she lent me clothes, fallals, laces, even a fan, to go and make merry myself. Ah!" she cried, "I am avenged! Avenged! This betrayer of innocent women, this fortune-hunter, is fooled to the top of his bent----Till death us do part!" she exclaimed, with a bitter laugh, breaking off, "Till death us do part!" "This is no marriage," Beau Bufton said now, addressing Symson, "no marriage. You know that!" "I know that it will give you much trouble to break it," the reverend gentleman said, with a leer of contempt. "I tie all tight. You were warned yesterday that false names would not save you. And, since she openly avows her name is Anne Pottle, in the name of Anne Pottle you are wed. Now, I require you to be gone. Observe, there is another ceremony to be performed." While as he spoke he pointed to the door, through which a second wedding party was entering. "I renounce her!" Bufton cried now, "renounce her for ever. It is a trick played by a wanton!" he cried. "A trick that shall never succeed. You shall be laid by the heels in Newgate--you--you--you hedge priest--Great God!" he almost screamed, breaking off, "what brings _you_ here too?" And in his rage he made an attempt to draw his sword. For, behind that other small party which had entered the chapel, he saw the form of a man which he remembered well--had good cause to remember--the form of Sir Geoffrey Barry, with, leaning upon his arm, a young and beautiful woman. "I am here," the new-comer said, "to present you to a lady whom I wish you to know. Pardon me," he continued, addressing the incoming wedding party which he had followed, "if I delay your ceremony for a short moment. But I am desirous of introducing this newly made happy man to my future wife--Miss Ariadne Thorne." CHAPTER VIII. FOREBODINGS. If ever a marriage was performed amidst extraordinary surroundings, it was that second marriage which Symson was now conducting, or rather the third that morning, since already a happy couple had been united before Beau Bufton and Anne Pottle had been joined together. A marriage this (between an actual heiress in a small way and an officer of Rich's Dragoons) hurried through by Symson after he had muttered, "Nigh midday, nigh midday, quick! or there will be no ceremony," while, from without, and from the neighbourhood of the porch, there came cries and jeers--these being from some idlers who had gathered outside--the hoarse voice of Bufton hurling imprecations, and the deeper one of Lewis Granger bidding him hold his peace. And once, a shriek--from Ariadne.