The licence was obtained, and almost simultaneously came the grant from the Garter King of Arms, and Clarenceaux King of Arms, "of the South, East, and West parts of England, from the River Trent southwards," to the effect that "whereas His Majesty, by warrant under his Royal Signet and Sign Manual, had signified to the Most Noble the Earl Marshal that he had been graciously pleased to give and to grant unto Anthony Crymes, Gent., son and heir apparent to Fernando Crymes, Esquire," the licence to bear henceforth the arms and name of Cleverdon, in lieu of that of Crymes; that therefore a patent to this effect was issued, etc. Consequently, Anthony Crymes was married, not in his paternal name, but in that which he had acquired. The day was grey and sunless, with a raw northeast wind blowing. Bessie returned, after the marriage, to the house where she had been born, and Fox came with her. She went to her old room, and there laid aside her wedding-dress, and then came quietly down the stairs into her father's chamber, where she patiently awaited him. The old man had been giving orders without, and she heard his voice in the passage. She had not long to wait before he came in. He looked at her with lifted eyebrows, and took off his hat, and asked what she wanted there. "One word with you, dear father," said she, gently. "Very well; make haste--I am busy. There is much to see to to-day. Where is Fox?" He threw himself into his armchair, and crossed his feet. "Father," said Bessie, "I have done what you desired, and with this day a new life begins with me. I have come to ask your pardon for any grief, annoyance, or trouble I may have at any time caused you. I also ask you to forgive me for having opposed your wishes at first when you wanted me to marry Fox. I did not then understand your reasons. But it has been a hard thing for me to submit. I dare say, dear father, you can have no idea how hard it has been for me. Now I have sworn to love Fox, and I will try my best to do so." "Oh, love! love!" said the old man; "that is a mere word. You will get accustomed to each other, as I am to this chair." "That may be. And yet--there is love--love that is more than a word. I suppose you loved my mother." The old man made a deprecatory motion with his hand. "Oh! father, without love in the house, how sad life is! I ought to know that, for I have had but little love shown me by you. Do not think I reproach you," she said, hastily, a little colour mounting into her pale face; "but I have felt the want of what, perhaps, I was not worthy to receive." "Come--come!" said the old man; "I have no time for such talk that leads to nothing." "But it must lead to something," urged Bessie; "for that very reason have I come here. You know, my dear father, that you made me a promise when I gave my consent, and I come now to remind you of it." "I made no promise," said the old man, impatiently.