"I am not at all surprised. It is not any news to me. You could see it in his eyes," said Miss Mary Dale. And then they all were silent to listen to the renewed laughter that came bursting from the hall. Mrs. Hudson questioned her husband afterwards as to what it was that made everybody laugh, but the Rector had not much to say. "I really could not tell you, my dear," he said. "I don't remember anything that was said--but it seemed funny somehow, and as they all laughed one had to laugh too." The great lady came in, however, dragged by her brother to say good-by. "It has all gone off very well, I am sure, and Nell looked very nice, and did you great credit," she said, putting out her hand. "And it's very kind of you to take so much trouble to get us off by the first train." "Oh, it is no trouble," Mrs. Dennistoun said. "Shouldn't you like to say good-by to Puggy-muggy?" said Lady Mariamne, touching the little black nose upon her arm. "He enjoyed that _pâté_ so much. He really never has _foie gras_ at home: but he doesn't at all mind if you would like to give him a little kiss just here." "Good-by, Lady Mariamne," said Mrs. Dennistoun, with one of the curtseys of the old school. But there was another gust of laughter as Lady Mariamne was placed in the carriage, and a shrill little trumpet gave forth the satisfaction of the departing guest at having "got a rise out of the old girl." The gentlemen heaped themselves into Mr. Tatham's carriage, and swept off along with her, all but civil Harry, who waited to make their apologies, and to put up along with his own Dick Bolsover's "things." And thus the bridegroom's party, the new associates of Elinor, the great family into which the Honourable Mrs. Phil Compton had been so lucky as to marry, to the great excitement of all the country round, departed and was seen no more. Harry, who was civil, walked home with the Hudsons when all was over, and said the best he could for the Jew and her friends. "You see, she has been regularly spoiled: and then when a girl's so dreadful shy, as often as not it sounds like impudence." "Dear me, I should never have thought Lady Mariamne was shy," the gentle Rector said. "That's just how it is," said Harry. He went over again in the darkening to take his leave of Mrs. Dennistoun. He found her sitting out in the garden before the open door, looking down the misty walk. The light had gone out of the skies, but the usual cheerful lights had not yet appeared in the house, where the hum of a great occasion still reigned. The Tathams were at the Rectory, and Mrs. Dennistoun was alone. Harry Compton had a good heart, and though he could not conceive the possibility of a woman not being glad to have married her daughter, the loneliness and darkness touched him a little in contrast with the gayety of the previous night. "You must think us a dreadful noisy lot," he said, "and as if my sister had no sense. But it's only the Jew's way.