* * * * * It was the last day of April, the eve of “the maddest, merriest day in all the glad new year,” and the eve, besides, of John Beacham’s wedding-day--the day that was to make him, according to his own belief, the happiest of human beings. The weather was lovely. The spring had been a forward one, so that there were not wanting lilacs and laburnums, Gueldres roses and hawthorn blossom, to deck the maypoles and adorn the floral arch which it was the gallant purpose of the Switcham youths to erect over the churchyard gate, through which the bridal party had to pass. The exceeding beauty of the girl who had won what was universally considered by her _peers_ a prize in the matrimonial market, and a certain mystery which hung about her origin, would alone have been sufficient, without reckoning John Beacham’s well-deserved popularity, to account for the interest and curiosity created by the approaching nuptials. Honor Blake certainly was very lovely; that could not be denied. Fresh and sweet as a rose in June, with a profusion of light-brown wavy hair, melting blue eyes (had they in very truth a “look,” as Mrs. Tamfrey averred, in their languid depths?), and cherry lips that seemed pouting to be kissed; but for all this beauty, and partly, perhaps, because of her rich personal endowments, women--ay, and men likewise--were very curious to learn something certain and tangible regarding the quondam nursery governess at Clay’s Farm. All that was positively known regarding John’s _fiancée_ amounted to this--namely, that her early childhood had been passed at a superior description of farm-house in the far west of Ireland, and, moreover, it was very apparent that she had been delicately as well as tenderly reared. At the age of seven, a person calling herself the child’s aunt had removed the little Honor from the affectionate care of the “widow Moriarty,” the “snug woman” who had hitherto acted a mother’s part by the blue-eyed Irish maiden; and the next important event in the little girl’s life was the being placed in a respectable country boarding-school, where she completed an education that was more solid than ornamental. Eventually, and when she had reached the age of sixteen, Miss Blake, through the medium of the above-spoken-of relation, whose name was Bainbridge, and who had been for many years in the service, as housekeeper, of a wealthy Sandyshire family, obtained the situation of nursery governess at Clay’s Farm. The Clays were excellent people in their line, and they neither overworked nor underfed the young person, who did her best, though she was still, as good-natured Mrs. Clay often said, “but a giddy thing,” to please them.