Craddock put his arm through Mr. Glover’s with the unconscious friendliness that had gained him an hundred friends. “Yes, I am lucky,” he said. “I know you people think it rather queer that Bertha and I should get married, but we’re very much attached to one another, and I mean to do my best by her. You know I’ve never racketed about, Vicar, don’t you?” “Yes, my boy,” said the Vicar, touched at Edward’s confidence. “Every one knows you’re steady enough.” “Of course, she could have found men of much better social position than mine--but I’ll try to make her happy. And I’ve got nothing to hide from her as some men have; I go to her almost as straight as she comes to me.” “That is a very fortunate thing to be able to say.” “I have never loved another woman in my life, and as for the rest--well, of course, I’m young and I’ve been up to town sometimes; but I always hated and loathed it. And the country and the hard work keep one pretty clear of anything nasty.” “I’m very glad to hear you say that,” answered Mr. Glover. “I hope you’ll be happy, and I think you will.” The Vicar felt a slight pricking of conscience, for at first his sister and himself had called the match a _mésalliance_ (they pronounced the word vilely), and not till they learned it was inevitable did they begin to see that their attitude was a little wanting in charity. The two men shook hands. “I hope you don’t mind me spitting out these things to you, Vicar. I suppose it’s your business in a sort of way. I’ve wanted to tell Miss Ley something of the kind; but somehow or other I can never get an opportunity.” Chapter VII Exactly one month after her twenty-first birthday, as Bertha had announced, the marriage took place; and the young couple started off to spend their honeymoon in London. Bertha, knowing she would not read, took with her notwithstanding a book, to wit the _Meditations of Marcus Aurelius_; and Edward, thinking that railway journeys were always tedious, bought for the occasion _The Mystery of the Six-fingered Woman_, the title of which attracted him. He was determined not to be bored, for, not content with his novel, he purchased at the station a _Sporting Times_. “Oh,” said Bertha, when the train had started, heaving a great sigh of relief, “I’m so glad to be alone with you at last. Now we shan’t have anybody to worry us, and no one can separate us, and we shall be together for the rest of our lives.” Craddock put down the newspaper, which, from force of habit, he had opened after settling himself in his seat. “I’m glad to have the ceremony over too.” “D’you know,” she said, “I was terrified on the way to church; it occurred to me that you might not be there--that you might have changed your mind and fled.” He laughed. “Why on earth should I change my mind? That’s a thing I never do.” “Oh, I can’t sit solemnly opposite you as if we’d been married a century. Make room for me, boy.” She came over to his side and nestled close to him.