Certainly she was permeated with this idea. It radiated from her countenance; it spoke in her eyes; it made itself visible in the glory of her bridal attire. The wedding morning was one of the darkest and dreariest of London's winter days. A black pouring rain fell incessantly; the atmosphere was heavy, and loaded with exhalations; and the cholera terror was on every face. For at this time it was really "a destruction walking at noon-day" and leaving its ghastly sign of possession on many a house in the streets along which the bridal party passed. It came into the gloomy church like a splendid dream: officers in gay uniforms, ladies in beautiful gowns and nodding plumes, and at the altar,--shining like some celestial being,--the radiant bride in glistening white satin, and sparkling gems. And Cecil, in his new military uniform, tall, handsome, soldierly, happy, made her a fitting companion. The church was filled with a dismal vapour; the rain plashed on the flagged enclosure; the wind whistled round the ancient tower: there was only gloom, and misery, and sudden death outside; but over all these accidents of time and place, the joy of the bride and the bridegroom was triumphant. And later in the day, when the Duke and Piers went with them to the great three-decked Indiaman waiting for their embarkation, they were still wondrously exalted and blissful. Dressed in fine dark-blue broadcloth, and wrapped in costly furs, Annabel watched from the deck the departure of her friends, and then put her hand in Cecil's with a smile. "For weal or woe, Bella, my dear one," he said. "For weal or woe, for life or death, Cecil beloved," she answered, having no idea then of what that promise was to bring her in the future; though she kept it nobly when the time of its redemption came. Three days after this event, Mrs. Atheling received by special messenger from Lord Exham a letter, and with it the ring which had caused so much suspicion and sorrow. But though the letter was affectionate and confidential, and full of tender messages which he "trusted in her to deliver for him," nothing was said as to the manner of its recovery, or the personality of the one who had purloined it. "Your father has been right, no doubt, Kate," she said. "In some weak moment Annabel has got the ring from him, and on her marriage has given it back. That is clear to me." "Not to me, Mother. I am sure Piers did not give Annabel--did not give any one the ring. I will tell you what I think. Annabel got it while he was asleep, or he inadvertently dropped it, and she picked it up--and kept it, hoping to make mischief." "You may be wrong, Kitty." "I may--but I _know_ I am right." _No Diviner like Love!_