him down if they will—and a word to him will be
no harm."

The major's smile passed away as ha saw who
it was, So, she was also of that world who
came cringing to him as his prospects brightened!
But the game she had played with him was too
serious.

"Major Carter," she said, "I have just stopped
to tell you something. I know all sorts of people,
and hear all sorts of things. I am told that
you are about being married one of these days.
Let me advise you—look carefully to yourself.
There are dangers that perhaps you have not
thought of. Don't think of marriages, or such
things. I confess I am no friend of yours, but
still I give you this friendly warning."

For a second a shade of anxiety and alarm came
into his face. Then it was all clear, and he
laughed.

"I know that you are no friend of mine, Miss
Manuel," he said. "But I can't be angry with you.
You are very clever. I really admire you. But I
am not angry with you. We have had our little
game out, and it is not for me to say who has
been the winner. But you are welcome to the
title, with all my heart. I am in good humour
with all the world to-night. So thanks, a
thousand thanks, for your very melodramatic
warning."

He was indeed in good humour that evening.
As he walked away, he was greatly amused.
"What a clever creature," he thought, "and how
well she did it. For the moment she almost took
me in. Another man would have been frightened,
and perhaps listened to her. Her last move has
failed. I should not be surprised if she went mad
one of these days."

CHAPTER XXXIX. MAJOR CARTER'S WEDDING-DAY .

THE following morning—the day of the Carter
wedding—was a bright one, with plenty of sun.
There was great flash and bustle in the little
square where Major Carter lived. Nearly every
one round knew of the solemnity. Many were
at the windows, and a few on the steps. A series
of expresses seemed to be flying backwards and
forwards between the major's house and other
quarters. He himself, bright and shining as a
new suit and the very closest shaving and polishing
could make him, was seen in glimpses and
flashes, as it were, now flinging himself into a cab
and disappearing, now dashing out of a cab onto
the steps, into the house, as though he had come
with a reprieve for a criminal.

So with Mrs. Wrigley, the widow, on whose
figure workwomen and maids had been at work
from an early hour. She was in a sort of fat
flutter and trepidation. As she said often, "the
moment of her destiny was drawing on." They
had invested her with the richest, stiffest, white
satin, which was as inflexible as milled board,
and dressed her in it, as though she were an idol.
Her neighbours knew of it, and were out on
their steps; and a great carriage—not the chariot,
which was wanted for another purpose—waiting
at the door, with a huge display of favours and
ribbons, proclaimed through the street the
general notion of Marriage.

She was presently at the church, where there
was a block of carriages already, belonging to the
gay company that Major Carter had so carefully
recruited. It was a fine fashionable temple,
where the thing was done in a highly fashionable
way, and by a highly fashionable incumbent.
Where the cushions showed the impressions of
select elbows and select knees; and where the
letters of the Commandments seemed to run
indistinctly into the characters of the Court Guide.
In such a temple the rite received extra
solemnity; and the fashionable incumbent was
"assisted" by the Rev. Alfred Hoblush. Thus,
standing at the rails, in this atmosphere of
Belgravian sanctity, with the crowd of ladies and
gentlemen of good degree looking on, Major
Carter was united to his bride. The fashionable
incumbent almost chanted the words of the rite,
bleating them, as it were, plaintively; and to
his song the work was accomplished.

It was a happy moment for the major. Bride
and bridegroom came out together on the top of
the little steps in the sort of little slum at the
back of the fashionable temple. But many select
rites had glorified the slum. Their carriage was
there, and the crowd, who lived in the back lane,
and whose life was to see marriages driving away
in inexhaustible variety. The major and his bride,
enshrined in this carriage as in a casket, drove
away in a tumult of happiness.

At Mrs. Wrigley's mansion was the breakfast,
and the company. Such a company! It did
honour to the major's recruiting powers. It had
cost him infinite pains and trouble. To some he
had to give "bounties;" others, who might be
called "bringers," he had to supply with
"head-money;" but still there were the ranks full, and
a goodly show. There was a nice leavening of
aristocracy—Lord Putnenham, and the Honourable
Mr. and Mrs. Brownbill, being present; there
were some "nice girls," in that gay and glittering
plumage which is only seen at weddings and
flower-shows; there were officers for the nice
girls, men whom Major Carter took pleasantly
by the arm or shoulder; there was "Old Foley,"
tightened almost to gasping, Young Brett, Lady
Laura Fermor and her daughters, who had been
persuaded to come, with some pains. Young
Spendlesham had agreed to come too, but, at the
last moment, had sent a note with an excuse
about important business. Many and many
times did Lady Laura's eyes wander wistfully to
the door.

The feast, sumptuous indeed! The
arch-pastrycook had looked to it. Everything rich, or
delicate, or costly, was spread out. The bride
and bridegroom sat side by side. The fountains
of champagne were flowing briskly, and faces
framed in white bonnets began to acquire that
heated flush which always attends on this morning
feasting. It is a proud hour for Major Carter.