Sop seven to dress me: sask; so long t Mr. Rocer, groient of my delay, sent up to ask ening my veil (ter all) to my h a brooch; I hurried from under her hands as soon as I could.

    “Stop!” s yourself in t taken one peep.”

    So I turned at t it seemed almost tranger. “Jane!” called a voice, and I ened do t of tairs by Mr. Rocer.

    “Lingerer!” ience, and you tarry so long!”

    ook me into t only t telling me  ten minutes to eat some breakfast, ely s, a footman, ans.

    “Is Joting the carriage ready?”

    “Yes, sir.”

    “Is t down?”

    “t down, sir.”

    “Go you to turn and tell me.”

    t just beyond tes; tman soon returned.

    “Mr. ood is in try, sir, putting on his surplice.”

    “And the carriage?”

    “the horses are harnessing.”

    “e s  it to go to c it must be ready t urn: all trapped on, and t.”

    “Yes, sir.”

    “Jane, are you ready?”

    I rose. tives to  for or mars Mr. Rocer and I. Mrs. Fairfax stood in to  my ride I could o look at Mr. Rocer’s face o feel t not a second of delay olerated for any purpose. I  up to a purpose, so grimly resolute: or  brows, ever revealed such flaming and flashing eyes.

    I kno ed into Mr. Rocer’s frame. I ed to see t along, o fasten a glance fierce and fell. I ed to feel ts ing.

    At t opped: e out of breatant: lean on me, Jane.”

    And noure of teeple, of a ruddy morning sky beyond. I remember sometoo, of t forgotten, eitrangers straying amongst toes g