The eventful day came at last, and was one of the mellowest of all that mellow October. The sun flooded the little village of Wyndham in waves of golden light. The pretty little stone church in which the marriage ceremony was to be performed was beautifully decorated with flowers. A floral arch vailed the door-way. A carpet of red roses, from the glass-houses at Hawkhurst, strewed the path the bride must traverse in going from her carriage to the church door. Inside the church, myrtles and red roses festooned the walls, and were suspended above the spot where the bride and groom would stand, in the form of a marriage bell. The breath of roses filled the air with perfume sweeter than “gales from Araby.” Long before eleven o’clock, the villagers and the tenants of Hawkhurst began to assemble at the church. They were all in gala attire, for Lady Wynde, with an insatiable vanity, had decreed that her third marriage-day was to be a gala-day for the retainers of the Wynde family. The villagers and tenants were all invited to a grand out-door feast at Hawkhurst, where a hogshead of ale, it was said, was to be broached, and deers and pigs roasted whole. A brass band from Canterbury had been engaged for the evening, and there would be colored lanterns suspended from the trees, and dancing on the terrace and on the lawn. Soon after eleven, the carriages of various county families began to arrive at the church. Sir John and Lady Freise, with their seven blooming daughters whose ages ranged from eighteen to thirty-five, were among the first comers. One of the white-gloved ushers, with a bridal favor pinned to his coat, showed them into a reserved seat. Other acquaintances and friends, some curious, some full of condemnation, made their appearance, and were similarly accommodated. Lord Towyn and Mr. Atkins came in together. It was nearly twelve o’clock when two carriages rolled up to the church door, bringing the bridal party from Hawkhurst. From the first of these alighted Neva and Rufus Black. The heiress was attired in white, with pink ribbon at her waist and pink roses securing the frill of lace at her throat, and Rufus wore the prescribed dress suit of black. They walked up the aisle side by side, and more than one noticed how pale the young girl was. They took their places in the Wynde family pew, for Neva had resolutely declined to enact the part of bride’s-maid to her father’s widow, and would have declined to appear at the wedding had not she realized that her absence would be more marked and conspicuous than her presence. The young heiress had scarcely sank into her seat, when a fluttering at the door declared to the assembly that the hero and heroine of the occasion were at hand. In defiance of the custom of meeting at the altar, Craven Black and Lady Wynde came in together, she leaning upon his arm.