A fortnight before Christmas the good people at Durlston were somewhat surprised to hear that Durlston House was about to change hands, the new owner being a Mrs. Thornton, of Sydney. One or two of them went to Lady Marjorie expressing their regret; and asked her if she were leaving the town for good. “Oh no, not for good,” she answered with a merry twinkle in her blue eyes. “Only for about six weeks.” And more she would not divulge. But somehow the news leaked out, and there was quite a crowd of well-wishers outside the registrar’s office on the following Monday morning. They were mostly the tradespeople who attended at Durlston House and the Towers, probably drawn thither by the fascination which always seems to hover round a bridal couple, whatever their degree. It was a dreadfully plebeian way of getting married, they said to each other; in fact, it was hardly respectable. “No banns, no church, no wedding-bells, no cake, no free drinks, no nothing.” “And it’s not as if they couldn’t afford it, neither,” said Mrs. Smith, who kept the chandler’s shop in the High Street; “she being a hearl’s daughter and all.” “Perhaps it’s because she were a widder,” hazarded Mrs. Jones. “Widders ain’t so pertikler as spinsters, seeing as it’s their second try.” At the station, however, Mr. Karne somewhat redeemed his character in their eyes. The factory people, despite the fact that he was marrying out of the faith, had sent a deputation to wish the bridal pair good luck and a pleasant journey. In replying to their congratulations, Herbert said that on account of the state of his health, he had been obliged to have the marriage as quiet as possible; but when, in the course of a few weeks, he brought his bride home to the Towers, he hoped to be well enough to organize all the festivities generally associated with a happy wedding. His little speech elicited general satisfaction, and after some consideration it was unanimously agreed throughout the town that he could not very well have had a “big” wedding, when he had so recently lain at death’s door. “Although it do seem to me that a bride and bridegroom hev no more right to put off their wedding breakfast than a dead Irishman has to postpone his wake,” remarked Mrs. Jones to Mrs. Smith. “Seeing as one follows the other quite natural-like, as you may say. Still, if them Jews at Mendel’s is satisfied, it’s nowt to do with you and me.” And there the matter rested. Celia drove back from the station with Lord Bexley and Mr. Harry Barnard, who had been the witnesses of the marriage. She could not help looking a little bit woe-begone in spite of Mr. Barnard’s jocularity. Although not begrudging Herbert and Marjorie their happiness--on the contrary, she was deeply thankful for it--she felt that Marjorie was the most enviable woman in the world, for she had gained her heart’s desire: she had married the man she loved.