a young woman, in whose momentarily illumined features he discerned
those of Margery Tucker.

Altogether there was something curious in this. The man returned to
the lawn front, and perfunctorily went on putting shelters over
certain plants, though his thoughts were plainly otherwise engaged.
On the grass his footsteps were noiseless, and the night moreover
being still, he could presently hear a murmuring from the bedroom
window over his head.

The gardener took from a tree a ladder that he had used in nailing
that day, set it under the window, and ascended half-way, hoodwinking
his conscience by seizing a nail or two with his hand and testing
their twig-supporting powers. He soon heard enough to satisfy him.
The words of a church-service in the strange parson's voice were
audible in snatches through the blind: they were words he knew to be
part of the solemnization of matrimony, such as 'wedded wife,'
'richer for poorer,' and so on; the less familiar parts being a more
or less confused sound.

Satisfied that a wedding was in progress there, the gardener did not
for a moment dream that one of the contracting parties could be other
than the sick Baron. He descended the ladder and again walked round
the house, waiting only till he saw Margery emerge from the same
little door; when, fearing that he might be discovered, he withdrew
in the direction of his own cottage.

This building stood at the lower corner of the garden, and as soon as
the gardener entered he was accosted by a handsome woman in a widow's
cap, who called him father, and said that supper had been ready for a