"Then--then let us take her with us to Florence. 'Twould make me happier than anything under the sun." The words were followed by a slightly dismayed pause. Although he strove bravely to conceal the fact, Milbanke's face fell. And Mrs. Asshlin became newly and markedly shocked. "My dear Clodagh----" she began sternly. But Milbanke put up his hand. "Pray say nothing, Mrs. Asshlin!" he broke in gently. "Clodagh's wishes are mine." The blood surged into Clodagh's face in a wake of spontaneous relief. "You mean that?" she said again. Once more he bent his head. "Then I'll marry you any time you like," she said with a sudden, impulsive warmth. And in due time the day of the marriage dawned. After careful consideration, every detail had been arranged and all difficulties smoothed away. The ceremony was to take place in the small, unpretentious Protestant church at Carrigmore, where, Sunday after Sunday, since the days of her early childhood, Clodagh had listened to the Word of God, and had sent up her own immature supplications to heaven. The marriage--which of necessity was to be of the most private nature--was fixed for the forenoon; and it had been arranged that immediately upon its conclusion, Clodagh, Nance, and Milbanke should repair to Mrs. Asshlin's cottage, from which--having partaken of lunch--they were to start upon their journey without returning to Orristown. The wedding morning broke grey and mild, presaging a typical Irish day. After a night of broken and restless sleep, Clodagh woke at six; and slipped out of bed without disturbing Nance. For the first moment or two she sat on the side of her bed, her hands locked behind her head, her bare feet resting upon the uncarpeted floor. Then suddenly the sight of the long cardboard box that had arrived from Dublin the day before, containing the new grey dress in which she was to be married, roused her to the significance of the hour. With a swift movement she rose, and crossed the room to the window. The view across the bay was neutral and calm. Over the sea to the east a pale and silvery sun was emerging from a film of mist; while on the water itself a white, almost spiritual radiance lay like a mystic veil. Clodagh took one long, comprehensive glance at the familiar scene; then, as if afraid to trust herself too far, she turned away quickly and began to dress with noiseless haste. Twenty minutes later, she crept downstairs arrayed in her old black riding-habit. Where she rode on that morning of her marriage; what strange and speculative thoughts burned in her brain; and what secrets--regretful or anticipatory--she whispered into Polly's sensitive ears, no one ever knew! At half-past eight she re-entered the stable-yard, slipped from the saddle unaided, and threw the mare's bridle to Burke.