Polydore was very much disturbed. Was this the end of his teaching? Was it his quiet and meditative pupil, the calm student of the library at Trevethlan, the contemplative muser by the sea, who had thus in one moment flung prudence aside, and fled to an irregular and unhallowed union? The simple-hearted chaplain could not understand it at all. He had sometimes anticipated the pleasure of himself blessing the nuptials of his former pupils, according to the ritual of his church, and now Randolph had contracted a marriage devoid of any ecclesiastical sanction. Improper and ill-omened as had been the father's wedding, that of the son, Mr. Riches thought, was still more deplorable. Such matches were rarely a source of happiness. And here, in particular, the enmity between the families might lead to unusual misery. And poverty--stark, staring poverty--seemed to threaten the young couple. For Polydore had learned from Mr. Winter the last step taken by Mrs. Pendarrel, and saw nothing before the orphans but absolute and immediate want. And the further letters which before long reached both Helen and the chaplain did not tend to allay their anxiety. Randolph wrote that he and his bride were returning, by easy and leisurely stages, to the metropolis. But there were few traces of happiness, or even of tranquillity in his missives. They contained no spontaneous effusion of joy, no expressions of triumph, no desire for congratulation. They were, on the contrary, cold and restrained. The writer seemed endeavouring to suppress any signs of emotion, to avoid causing uneasiness, to prevent sympathy. Even in speaking of Mildred, he was cautiously reserved. He mentioned her without any warmth of panegyric, and without any overflow of tenderness. Neither did he say a single word in justification of his flight. He seemed to write, rather because he felt bound to do so, than from any pleasure in the correspondence. In fact, Polydore remarked to himself with a sigh, that if Randolph had not wished on his arrival in town to find a temporary abode ready for him where he was not known, he would probably not have written at all. In all this the chaplain saw but slight prospect of future comfort.