entered upon the duties with feminine energy, for there are no conspirators like women.  Ripton’s lieutenancy became a sinecure, his rank merely titular.  He had never been married—­he knew nothing about licences, except that they must be obtained, and were not difficult—­he had not an idea that so many days’ warning must be given to the clergyman of the parish where one of the parties was resident.  How should he?  All his forethought was comprised in the ring, and whenever the discussion of arrangements for the great event grew particularly hot and important, he would say, with a shrewd nod:  “We mustn’t forget the ring, you know, Mrs. Berry!” and the new member was only prevented by natural complacence from shouting:  “Oh, drat ye! and your ring too.”  Mrs. Berry had acted conspicuously in fifteen marriages, by banns, and by licence, and to have such an obvious requisite dinned in her ears was exasperating.  They could not have contracted alliance with an auxiliary more invaluable, an authority so profound; and they acknowledged it to themselves.  The hero marched like an automaton at her bidding; Lieutenant Thompson was rejoiced to perform services as errand-boy in the enterprise.

“It’s in hopes you’ll be happier than me, I do it,” said the devout and charitable Berry.  “Marriages is made in heaven, they say; and if that’s the case, I say they don’t take much account of us below!”

Her own woeful experiences had been given to the hero in exchange for his story of cruel parents.

Richard vowed to her that he would henceforth hold it a duty to hunt out the wanderer from wedded bonds, and bring him back bound and suppliant.

“Oh, he’ll come!” said Mrs. Berry, pursing prophetic wrinkles:  “he’ll come of his own accord.  Never anywhere will he meet such a cook as Bessy Berry!  And he know her value in his heart of hearts.  And I do believe, when he do come, I shall be opening these arms to him again, and not slapping his impidence in the face—­I’m that soft!  I always was—­in matrimony, Mr. Richards!”

As when nations are secretly preparing for war, the docks and arsenals hammer night and day, and busy contractors measure time by inches, and the air hums around:  for leagues as it were myriads of bees, so the house and neighbourhood of the matrimonial soft one resounded in the heroic style, and knew little of the changes of light decreed by Creation.  Mrs. Berry was the general of the hour.  Down to Doctors’ Commons she expedited the hero, instructing him how boldly to face the Law, and fib:  for that the Law never could mist a fib and a bold face.  Down the hero went, and proclaimed his presence.  And lo! the Law danced to him its sedatest lovely bear’s-dance.  Think ye the Lawless susceptible to him than flesh and blood?  With a beautiful confidence it put the few familiar questions to him, and nodded to his replies:  then stamped the bond, and took the fee.  It must be an old vagabond at heart that