The prospect of such a jaunt was to me indeed agreeable; and as he liked to see me in becoming dress, I arrayed myself in white, placed a fillet of pale blue ribbon round my hair and a bouquet of blue forget-me-nots in the bosom of my dress, and thus adorned set forth, sitting by Richard’s side.

I was as happy as a young queen; all the black suspicions which had darkened my horizon were absorbed in the fierce heat of that summer morning.  His beauty, his fascinating smile, his lively conversation, filled me with rapture.

Arrived at the village, we stopped at a small but pretty tavern and alighted.  While I entered the dwelling Richard drove his horses under shelter.  He soon joined me, looking much disconcerted.

“Agnes, my darling, what shall we do?  We cannot ride back to-night; the carriage is out of order, and I fear the horse is injured by the heat and rapid driving.”

“O Richard, I must return home to-night!” I answered decidedly.

“Well, I will see what can be done, but we will rest awhile and take some refreshments.”

A delightful half hour passed while we were regaling ourselves with country fare and looking at the strange place from the window of the little inn.  Then Richard proposed that we should walk out while waiting for repairs to our vehicle.  Together we strolled through the quiet lanes and open commons till we came upon a pretty, unpretending church, half hidden in ivy and creeping vines.  The door stood open.  “Come,” said he, “let us go in.”  I followed him in.  To my surprise I discovered a clergyman in his robes at the altar.  Richard whispered in my ear some words which I could not understand and their import I could only guess at, but his tender manner brought the hot blood to my face.

“Agnes,” he continued, speaking with quiet determination; “you must be mine; everything is in readiness.  We cannot return to-night; Fate ordains it!”

It did appear to me that Fate, as he said, ordained the events which followed that country drive.  All the love and sentiment of my nature was aroused; but reason told my intoxicated senses that I must not act without forethought, so I shook my head to his passionate urgency and endeavored to withdraw.  But my companion pressed me gently back into an open pew, and hastened past me up the aisle.

A rapid conversation then took place between himself and the clergyman, who, after casting his eyes in my direction, went to his desk and took up his prayer-book.

Richard returned with quick steps to where I was sitting.

“Come,” said he, smiling; “he is waiting.”

Startled and trembling, I made no answer save an effort to reach the door.

“For heaven’s sake, Agnes, do not make a scene!  Recover your usual good sense.  Do you not see that it is best?” whispered Richard, with earnestness almost fierce.

And so hurried, flushed and doubting, overcome with heat and excitement, I permitted myself to be led to the altar.