Everything had been clear then, in imagination; now something was

undefined. She had little carking anxieties; a curious fatefulness

seemed to rule her, and she experienced a mournful want of some one to

confide in.

The day loomed so big and nigh that her prophetic ear could, in fancy,

catch the noise of it, hear the murmur of the villagers as she came out

of church, imagine the jangle of the three thin-toned Hintock bells.

The dialogues seemed to grow louder, and the ding-ding-dong of those

three crazed bells more persistent. She awoke: the morning had come.

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Five hours later she was the wife of Fitzpiers.




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