My aversion—­reasonable or otherwise, as it might be—­was not shared by Miss Willoughby; and it was soon apparent that, fascinated, intoxicated by her extreme beauty (the man was, I felt, incapable of love in its high, generous, and spiritual sense), Mr. Harlowe had determined on offering his hand and fortune to the unportioned orphan.  He did so, and was accepted.  I did not conceal my dislike of her suitor from Edith; and my wife—­who, with feminine exaggeration of the hints I threw out, had set him down as a kind of polished human tiger—­with tears intreated her to avoid the glittering snare.  We of course had neither right nor power to push our opposition beyond friendly warning and advice; and when we found, thanks to Lady Maldon, who was vehemently in favor of the match—­to, in Edith’s position, the dazzling temptation of a splendid establishment, and to Mr. Harlowe’s eloquent and impassioned pleadings—­that the rich man’s offer was irrevocably accepted, we of course forebore from continuing a useless and irritating resistance.  Lady Maldon had several times very plainly intimated that our aversion to the marriage arose solely from a selfish desire of retaining the services of her charming relative; so prone are the mean and selfish to impute meanness and selfishness to others.

I might, however, I reflected, be of service to Miss Willoughby, by securing for her such a marriage settlement as would place her beyond the reach of one possible consequence of caprice and change.  I spoke to Mr. Harlowe on the subject; and he, under the influence of headstrong, eager passion, gave me, as I expected, carte blanche.  I availed myself of the license so readily afforded:  a deed of settlement was drawn up, signed, sealed, and attested in duplicate the day before the wedding; and Edith Willoughby, as far as wealth and position in society were concerned, had undoubtedly made a surprisingly good bargain.

It happened that just as Lady Maldon, Edith Willoughby, and Mr. Harlowe were leaving my chambers after the execution of the deed, Mr. Ferret the attorney appeared on the stairs.  His hands were full of papers, and he was, as usual, in hot haste; but he stopped abruptly as his eye fell upon the departing visitors, looked with startled earnestness at Miss Willoughby, whom he knew, and then glanced at Mr. Harlowe with an expression of angry surprise.  That gentleman, who did not appear to recognize the new-comer, returned his look with a supercilious, contemptuous stare, and passed on with Edith—­who had courteously saluted the inattentive Mr. Ferret—­followed by Lady Maldon.

“What is the meaning of that ominous conjunction?” demanded Mr. Ferret as the affianced pair disappeared together.

“Marriage, Mr. Ferret!  Do you know any just cause or impediment why they should not be joined together in holy wedlock?”

“The fellow’s wife is dead then?”

“Yes; she died about a twelvemonth ago.  Did you know her?”