|In the course of the next four months Ralph’s powers of letter-writing improved amazingly, and thanks to those love letters and to the bright merry life in the Hereford household Evereld’s engagement proved a happy one although she and her lover could only spend two Sundays together during the whole time. They knew each other so well already however that there was no risk of any misunderstanding between them, and the waiting-time was too short to be very irksome. As for Bride O’Ryan she proved herself a friend worth having, threw herself into all Evereld’s interests with delightful eagerness, and teased her just enough to add a little salt to the entertainment. The Lord Chancellor kept them for some time in suspense, and furnished Bride with endless food for merriment. “He is a very formidable guardian,” she protested, “and when once you get into his clutches it’s very hard indeed to get out again. I wonder you dared to appeal to him.” “It was the only thing to be done,” said Evereld, “but I do wish he would be quick and give his consent.” “I have always heard,” said Bride provokingly, “that when once things get into chancery they stay there for years and years. Remember how it was in _Bleak House_.” “Well at any rate Mrs. Hereford says the Lord Chancellor is most kindhearted,” said Evereld. “And I know he is fond of reading novels, so he ought to take an interest in the romances of real life. And particularly he ought to like Ralph, for they say he himself had dreadful struggles at the beginning of his career when he was a young barrister on circuit.” However at length the consent was given and it was arranged that, as Macneillie’s company were not giving any performances in Holy Week, Ralph and Evereld should be married on Palm Sunday. Evereld like a wise little woman was determined not to waste her substance in the purchase of a trousseau which would be an endless trouble in their wandering life. “I have plenty of clothes already,” she protested. “All I shall need is a nice warm cloak in which I can walk to the theatre in the evening--a respectable dark sort of garment--and of course my wedding dress; I won’t be a frumpy bride in a travelling costume.” “No, have a gown like the bride in Blair Leighton’s picture ‘Called to arms,’” said Ralph who had come up from Bristol to spend a Sunday at the Hereford’s directly they had returned to London. “It’s a thousand times prettier than any of the ugly modern fashions.” Evereld did not know the picture but she promised to do her best to copy it, and with the help of a clever American maid of Mrs. Hereford’s, and Bridget’s ready assistance, and the advice of all the female members of the household, her skilful fingers succeeded in turning out a very good reproduction of the artist’s design at about a fifth of the cost of an ordinary wedding dress.