And that name would be Pendarrel. Nay, more; the name of Trevethlan would vanish from the earth. The family would sink into oblivion. If he who had slighted her could rise from his grave, and see the ruin which had followed his scorn; could see how his towers had passed into the hands of his foe; how his fame was blighted, and his children dishonoured; were there not ample satisfaction for all the long misery his contempt had inflicted? "No!" Esther was compelled to answer, as that eternal spring of bitter waters burst forth amidst the sweet flood of revenge. "No, nothing can compensate me for the sorrow which conscience whispers has been due to my own arrogance; nothing can atone for the wreck of that happiness, which, but for my own presumption, might have been mine." Reflections like these, however, were soon crushed, and Mrs. Pendarrel had quite sufficient employment on her hands. Since the night of her great party, she had been assiduously pressing forward the preparations for Mildred's marriage. Perfectly heedless of the attitude assumed by the young lady, she was arranging all the details of the affair with maternal diligence, and had gone so far as to select the persons who were to be present at the ceremony. Mr. Truby had been himself to the Hall to receive final instructions respecting the settlements. Melcomb was an assiduous visitor, but by no means solicitous for _tête-à-têtes_ with his intended bride. To him the marriage was become nearly a matter of life and death. It was true the gossips at Mrs. Pendarrel's party had somewhat exaggerated his embarrassments; but his creditors were growing very importunate, and impatiently awaiting the day when the possession of his wife's fortune would enable him to satisfy their most pressing demands: a purpose to which he had undertaken it should be devoted. Let it be rumoured that the match was broken off, and it might not be very long before Tolpeden Park suffered the outrages alluded to by Mr. Quitch. So Melcomb disguised whatever inward anxiety he might feel, under a smooth brow and a smiling face, and evaded his mistress's repugnance as best he might. Mildred's remonstrances had subsided into passive resistance. She was generally silent and calm. The irksomeness of her situation was greatly aggravated; but, at the same time, her spirit was sustained by the memory which she cherished in her heart of the scene under the hawthorns of the cliff. Trusting that some accident might even yet frustrate her mother's intentions, she allowed her to proceed without protest, acting on her sister's advice, to postpone éclat to the latest possible period. She felt that she had deceived no one, and, if scandal came, it would be no fault of hers.