“One wrench,” said the sobbing culprit, “one, and my ring was off!”

She had no suspicions, and the task of writing her name in the vestry-book had been too enacting for a thought upon the other signatures.

“I daresay you were exceedingly sorry for what you had done,” said Adrian.

“Indeed, sir,” moaned Berry, “I were, and am.”

“And would do your best to rectify the mischief—­eh, ma’am?”

“Indeed, and indeed, sir, I would,” she protested solemnly.

“—­As, of course, you should—­knowing the family.  Where may these lunatics have gone to spend the Moon?”

Mrs. Berry swimmingly replied:  “To the Isle—­I don’t quite know, sir!” she snapped the indication short, and jumped out of the pit she had fallen into.  Repentant as she might be, those dears should not be pursued and cruelly balked of their young bliss!  “To-morrow, if you please, Mr. Harley:  not to-day!”

“A pleasant spot,” Adrian observed, smiling at his easy prey.

By a measurement of dates he discovered that the bridegroom had brought his bride to the house on the day he had quitted Raynham, and this was enough to satisfy Adrian’s mind that there had been concoction and chicanery.  Chance, probably, had brought him to the old woman:  chance certainly had not brought him to the young one.

“Very well, ma’am,” he said, in answer to her petitions for his favourable offices with Sir Austin in behalf of her little pension and the bridal pair, “I will tell him you were only a blind agent in the affair, being naturally soft, and that you trust he will bless the consummation.  He will be in town to-morrow morning; but one of you two must see him to-night.  An emetic kindly administered will set our friend here on his legs.  A bath and a clean shirt, and he might go.  I don’t see why your name should appear at all.  Brush him up, and send him to Bellingham by the seven o’clock train.  He will find his way to Raynham; he knows the neighbourhood best in the dark.  Let him go and state the case.  Remember, one of you must go.”

With this fair prospect of leaving a choice of a perdition between the couple of unfortunates, for them to fight and lose all their virtues over, Adrian said, “Good morning.”

Mrs. Berry touchingly arrested him.  “You won’t refuse a piece of his cake, Mr. Harley?”

“Oh, dear, no, ma’am,” Adrian turned to the cake with alacrity.  “I shall claim a very large piece.  Richard has a great many friends who will rejoice to eat his wedding-cake.  Cut me a fair quarter, Mrs. Berry.  Put it in paper, if you please.  I shall be delighted to carry it to them, and apportion it equitably according to their several degrees of relationship.”

Mrs. Berry cut the cake.  Somehow, as she sliced through it, the sweetness and hapless innocence of the bride was presented to her, and she launched into eulogies of Lucy, and clearly showed how little she regretted her conduct.  She vowed that they seemed made for each other; that both, were beautiful; both had spirit; both were innocent; and to part them, or make them unhappy, would be, Mrs. Berry wrought herself to cry aloud, oh, such a pity!