“Then I should have to stay there a fortnight,” said Lady Gwendolyn, with a little air of triumph, for she thought she was going to demolish the gallant colonel’s program. “Not at all. There is nothing to prevent our being married to-morrow, if you like.” “I thought you were obliged to remain a certain time in a place.” “I have a special license, Gwen, and, moreover, we have both been more than the required length of time in this parish.” “Oh!” she said rather dubiously. “You have arranged everything, then?” “Of course. Would you mind trying on your wedding-ring, to make sure it fits?” Gwendolyn’s eyes flashed, and her color rose. But when he stooped down and kissed her, she suddenly laid her hand on his breast and burst into tears. “I begin to think you don’t love me a bit, Gwen,” he said, caressing her tenderly; “or that you look upon me as a kind of ogre, who is not to be trusted with a woman’s happiness.” “You know it isn’t that.” “Then what is it?” “Marriage is a great change, and a great risk,” she stammered out at last. “Of course it is a change, dear love; but it cannot be any risk when you have a man of honor to deal with, and know yourself to be truly valued and beloved.” “Yes,” she said desperately; “but I am afraid I shall often trouble about that lady I saw at Borton Hall.” Colonel Dacre changed color visibly. “I thought you had promised me never to think about or mention her again, Gwen? I do solemnly swear over again that no woman living, excepting yourself, can ever say that I have asked her to be my wife. I had a good many foolish fancies as a lad, but none of them went as far as that.” “Was she one of your foolish fancies?” inquired Lady Gwendolyn hesitatingly. “I don’t know whom you mean by she, but I can answer for it that my ‘foolish fancies’ are all married, and the mothers of families by this time.” “Then you haven’t had any lately?” she asked, with timid but anxious earnestness. “Not for the last ten years, on my word.” “And the lady at Borton----” she persisted. “Was a myth, or an impostor, and need not trouble you for a moment.” “I thought you said she was probably a madwoman who had delusions?” observed Lady Gwendolyn, who appeared to have stored up carefully the lightest word her lover had spoken on the subject. “Did I say that?” he returned, slightly embarrassed. “Well, it may be so; and all the better if it were, as she would not be likely to trouble you again.” “Will she now, do you suppose?” “No, my love; I’ll take care about that, when once you are in my charge. Besides, you may be sure that if she is not right in her mind, she has been put under confinement by this time.” “It is to be hoped so, because--don’t be angry with me, Lawrence--but if she were to claim you after we were married, I should not feel that I ought to stay with you a minute longer.”