It happened that just as Lady Maldon, Edith Willoughby, and Mr. Harlowe were leaving my chambers after the execution of the deed, Mr. Ferret the attorney appeared on the stairs. His hands were full of papers, and he was, as usual, in hot haste; but he stopped abruptly as his eye fell upon the departing visitors, looked with startled earnestness at Miss Willoughby, whom he knew, and then glanced at Mr. Harlowe with an expression of angry surprise. That gentleman, who did not appear to recognize the new-comer, returned his look with a supercilious, contemptuous stare, and passed on with Edith--who had courteously saluted the inattentive Mr. Ferret--followed by Lady Maldon. "What is the meaning of that ominous conjunction?" demanded Mr. Ferret as the affianced pair disappeared together. "Marriage, Mr. Ferret! Do you know any just cause or impediment why they should not be joined together in holy wedlock?" "The fellow's wife is dead then?" "Yes; she died about a twelvemonth ago. Did you know her?" "Not personally; by reputation only. A country attorney, Richards of Braintree, for whom I transact London business sent me the draught of a deed of separation--to which the unfortunate lady, rather than continue to live with her husband, had consented--for counsel's opinion. I had an interview with Mr. Harlowe himself upon the business; but I see he affects to have forgotten me. I do not know much of the merits of the case, but according to Richards--no great shakes of a fellow, between ourselves--the former Mrs. Harlowe was a martyr to her husband's calculated virulence and legal--at least not _illegal_, a great distinction, in my opinion, though not so set down in the books--despotism. He espoused her for her wealth: that secured, he was desirous of ridding himself of the incumbrance to it. A common case!--and now, if you please, to business." I excused myself, as did my wife, from being present at the wedding; but everything, I afterwards heard, passed off with great _éclat_. The bridegroom was all fervor and obsequiousness; the bride all bashfulness and beauty. The "happy pair," I saw by the afternoon newspapers, were to pass the honeymoon at Mr. Harlowe's seat, Fairdown Park. The evening of the marriage-day was anything, I remember, but a pleasant one to me. I reached home by no means hilariously disposed, where I was greeted, by way of revival, with the intelligence that my wife, after listening with great energy to Lady Maldon's description of the wedding festivities for two tremendous hours, had at last been relieved by copious hysteria, and that Mary and Kate were in a fair way--if the exploit could be accomplished by perseverance--of crying themselves to sleep. These were our bridal compliments; much more flattering, I imagine, if not quite so honey-accented, as the courtly phrases with which the votaries and the victims of Hymen are alike usually greeted.