"Yes. I lost my nerve this evening and I ... I came out to think. Oh, I wonder are we wise!..."

He drew her arm in his. "Come home, my dear," he said.

He led her across the road, through the District Railway Station and up Villiers Street to the Strand, and as they walked along he told her of his own fears. "You were frightened, too?" she said in astonishment.

"Not frightened," he replied, "only ... well, dubious!"

"Perhaps we'd better wait," she suggested.

"Oh, no, no. I should feel such a fool if I were to tell people we'd postponed our marriage because we'd both got scared about it!"

"It's better to feel a fool than!..."

"And anyhow I know that it's all right. I feel sure it's all right.

When I walked along the Embankment before I met you, I became certain that I wanted you, Eleanor, and no one else but you. My dear, I'm terribly happy!"

"Are you?"

"Yes. Why, of course, I am. How can I be anything else when I shall be your husband this time to-morrow?"

They walked along Bond Street because they had discovered that Bond Street, when the shops are shut, is dark and quiet, and once they stopped and faced each other, and John took her in his arms and kissed her. "Sweetheart!" he murmured, with his lips against hers.

Then he took her to her club. "What a place for you to be married from!" he said, as he bade her good-night.

"This is my last night in it," she answered. "I shall never live in a place where there are only women again!" She paused for a moment, and then, with a sigh of relief, added, "Thank Goodness!"

III

On the following morning they were married; and in the evening they went to Ireland for their honeymoon. They were to go to Dublin for a week, and then up to Ballyards for a fortnight. Eleanor had proposed that Mrs. MacDermott should cross to Ireland with them, but she shook her head and smiled. "I'm foolish enough," she said, "but I'm not as foolish as all that. You'll want to be by yourselves, my dear!"

"I'll see your mother safely off from Euston," Hinde said, "when she makes up her mind to go!"

They spent the day quietly together until the time came for Eleanor and John to go to the railway station. Mrs. MacDermott took him out of the room. "I want to have a wee talk with you," she said in explanation.

"Here," she said, putting an envelope into his hand. "That's a wedding present for you from me!..."

"But you've given me one already," he interrupted.

"Oh, aye, that was just an ordinary one, but this is the one that matters. It'll be useful to you sometime!"

He opened the envelope, and inside it were ten notes for ten pounds each. "Ma!" he said.

"Now, now, never mention it," she exclaimed hurriedly. "What does an old woman like me want with money when there's two young ones in need of it. It'll help to keep you going till you're earning!"

He hugged her to show his grat.i.tude. "My son," she said, patting his back.

"Listen, John," she went on, "while I speak to you!"

"Yes, ma!"

"Don't forget that Eleanor's a young girl with no one to tell her things. She's very young, and ... and!..." She stumbled over her words.

"You'll be very kind to her, won't you, son?"

"Of course, I will, ma," John replied with no comprehension whatever of what it was she was trying to say.

Then she let him go back to Eleanor.

They gathered in the hall to make their "Good-byes." There was a telegram from the Creams to wish them happiness that Eleanor insisted on taking with her although she had never seen the Creams; and Miss Squibb mournfully insisted on giving a packet of sandwiches to them to eat on the journey. She told them that they knew what these trains and boats were like, and that they would be lucky if they got anything at all to sustain them during their travels. "Though you probably won't want to eat nothink when you get on the boat," she added encouragingly.

"Good-bye! Good-bye! Good-bye!"

John went up the hall to Lizzie. "Good-bye, Lizzie!" he said, and then, "What on earth are you crying for?"

"I dunno," she answered, wiping her eyes. "Just 'appiness, I s'pose.

I'll be doin' it myself some dy. See if I down't. It'd annoy aunt, anyway!"

They scrambled into the cab and were driven off. They leant back against the cushions and looked at each other.

"Well, we're married, Eleanor. I always said we would be," John said.

"It's frightfully funny," Eleanor replied. "Isn't it?"

He did not answer. He took her in his arms instead.

THE THIRD BOOK OF THE FOOLISH LOVERS

Ask, is Love divine, Voices all are, ay.

Question for the sign, There's a common sigh.

Would we through our years, Love forego, Quit of scars and tears?

Ah, but no, no, no!

MEREDITH.

THE FIRST CHAPTER

I

The honeymoon at Ballyards had been a triumph for Eleanor. Uncle William had immediately surrendered to her, making, indeed, no pretence to resist her. She had demanded his company on a boating excursion on the Lough, and when he had turned to her, sitting behind him in the bow of the boat, and had said, "This is great health! It's the first time I've been in a boat these years and years!" she had retorted indignantly, "The first time! But why?"