The arrival platform at Euston is not a very inspiriting place, but on a sunshiny day it can appear quite cheerful to an expectant bridegroom awaiting the coming of her whom he regards as brighter than the sunshine and more wonderful than all the triumphs of railway engineering skill.

Jack Cardew paced up and down restlessly. He was a handsome fellow, lithe and active, with more of the soldier about him than the lawyer, a stiff carriage, and a small, shapely head, with fresh coloring, and a very unlegal small brown mustache, sharply trimmed. His grey eyes were full and convincing, and just sufficiently nervous not to be bold. To-day his cheeks were flushed with long-repressed excitement. He was excited and tremulously nervous--as a man should be when he is taking the greatest step in his life contrary to the dictates of common sense and in direct opposition to the wishes of his best friends. He argued his business with himself, employing almost forensic eloquence in his attempts to demolish the case for the defendants. "Here am I," he mentally cried, addressing an imaginary jury of well-wishers, "a young man in the pride of early manhood, passionately in love with the most adorable of her sex, condemned by an old-fashioned and obtuse parent to patiently wait until fortune shall smile upon me. Meanwhile the precious hours and barren years are passing, and two souls are made wretched by living apart when there is no earthly reason why they should not be joined together in the holiest of bonds. Here am I, struggling at the Bar, confronted with years of drudgery, compelled to run the gauntlet of all the temptations of this great city, while the sweetest girl in the world is eating her heart out in some other place, longing for me every hour of the day, yet forbidden to join her life with mine because I have not attained that position of wealth and dignity which my father considers necessary for the son of the Bishop of Ripley. I am of age, and can marry whom I choose. My father is well aware of that. It is only the question of income that keeps me in his power. Men and women should marry, not eat their hearts out during the best years of their lives. And there are some men who cannot live alone. I am one of them. Some cannot work unless their minds are at ease. That is my temperament. It is monstrous that----"

Further sophistical arguments were cut short by the roaring arrival of the train. It glided in majestically with remorseless, inevitable force, and Jack vaguely likened it to the rush of fate that was to carry him to-day irresistibly to the terminus of his bachelorhood. He scanned the vibrating crowd of alighting passengers with some trepidation, expecting every moment to see his goddess, yet at the sight of every woman that was not Mabel he dreaded that she had changed her mind.

A tall, slim figure in a white dress, wearing a bewitching hat, was standing at the door of a first-class carriage watching his excitement with some amusement. She was within a few yards of him. He ran to her, and she almost jumped into his arms. He wanted to hug her there and then, but she, with practical coquetry, evaded even a kiss, and uttered the prosaic word "Luggage."

Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes bright, but not with happiness. Two hours in the train--hours of mental uncertainty--had produced a state of nervous indecision. Lady Hester's pitiful story and her cogent arguments were ringing in her ears. Patience! patience!

Why had she been so rash?

The lovers had planned to spend the honeymoon in the little village of Weybury, at the foot of the Chiltern Hills, where there was some excellent trout-fishing; and presently Jack bundled his bride into a cab and they drove off for St. Jude's, hoping all the way that no one they knew would recognize them, and so self-conscious that it seemed to be only necessary for a friend to see them to guess their errand by clairvoyance. Jack's fingers closed on Mabel's gloved hand, and he held it tight in a fierce grip that was meant to signify inflexible determination; but she drew her hand away, and dabbed her eyes with a ridiculous little lace handkerchief.

"What, crying?"

"Oh, yes, Jack. Don't you think we had better reconsider things after all?" She turned her great wistful eyes to his, knowing perfectly well what he would say.

"Your courage failing, darling?" He bent so near to her crimson cheek that an errand-boy in the street greeted them with a whistling shriek of derision, followed by some rude remarks about "leaving the gal alone."

"Oh, Jack, I must tell you. Lady Hester knows."

"You told her?" he cried, startled.

"No; she found out for herself. She taxed me with it, and I couldn't tell her a lie. I had to own up."

"She'll tell father," he cried in alarm.

"No, she has promised not to do that. She'll keep our secret."

"It's deuced inconvenient. What an infernal nuisance!" cried Jack, who was much more startled than he cared to admit.

"Oh, Jack, she urged me to abandon the idea of getting married to-day. She counselled patience. She said that it was only necessary for us to wait a little while and she would be able to influence the Bishop. Don't you think we might change our minds after all? We are sure of one another, Jack, without--well----"

"Darling, darling!" cried the bridegroom reprovingly.

Mabel began to tremble. Tears filled her eyes. "Of course, Jack, if you insist----"

"I do insist," he cried hotly. "Mabel, I thought you were looking forward to our little honeymoon."

"So I am--so I am!" she hastened to assure him.

"Mabel, the other day you swore that you loved me, and that you would follow me to the ends of the earth. You would be mine forever. You would give yourself to me body and soul."

"Of course, Jack, of course. When a woman loves nothing else matters. Am I not giving myself to you by marrying secretly to-day?"

"Yes, darling; but you suggested backing out."

"Oh! no, no, no."

"Then let's say no more about it. The hours will be short enough."

"Yes, Jack."

She slipped her hand into his, and the cab rumbled on. She had made her attempt to reverse his decision, and it had failed. There was no more to be said. But she had not tried very hard.

* * * * * *

Meanwhile, Lady Hester, at the Palace, had not been idle. At first she was overwhelmed with remorse at the futile revelation of her secret. Then reaction set in. She knew it to be her duty to inform the Bishop of his son's folly at all costs before it was too late; but it was not easy. The Bishop would have to be found, and when at last the news reached him, he would be powerless to take any steps to interfere. If anything was to be done she alone must accomplish it.

Fortunately, in mentioning the name of Tom Nestor, late curate of Ripley, Mabel had given a clue to the place where the marriage was to be celebrated. A telegram might carry some weight. She resolved to wire a last appeal to Jack himself, care of Tom Nestor. But by the time the telegraph form was under her hand the appeal became a threat:--

"You must abandon your plan, or I shall tell your father to-day. Wire reply.--MOTHER."

This telegram greeted Jack and his bride on their arrival at St. Jude's. Jack handed it silently to Mabel, who read it and passed it back again without comment. They looked at one another in dismay, but gave the Rev. Tom no clue to their trouble. They were in the vestry of the dingy St. Pancras Church, and Tom Nestor, a sandy-haired, lanky young man was getting into his surplice.

"It's too late now," whispered Jack in desperation, rapidly formulating a plan. "We must go on, darling, and brave it out. Are you ready?"

"I am yours to do with as you will. I have promised."

She linked her arm in his, and they went into the church to wait Tom's convenience. And there they were married, with hired witnesses, kneeling hand in hand, like two naughty children. Tom rattled through the ceremony with his usual shocking elocution, the ring was slipped on the trembling finger, and at the conclusion of the ceremony Jack pressed his bride to his heart, regardless of the pew-opener and the brass-cleaner.

They returned to Euston as man and wife, receiving Tom's congratulations on the step of the cab; and it was not until the railway terminus was reached that they found time to consider the real gravity of what had been done.

"I do hope your father won't be angry--that is, if Lady Hester tells him," sighed Mabel. "I think it will be very mean of her, and she'll be sorry if she does."

"I don't care what she tells him," growled Jack. Then he pictured the furious anger of his lordship and trembled for the financial future.

"I'll tell you what, little wife," he cried with sudden inspiration as they paced up and down the platform. "Father mustn't know, and mother mustn't tell him. In fact, mother herself mustn't know. You see it's an awful responsibility for her to keep such a thing from her husband; but if I telegraph to her and say that we've changed our minds--well, then, we are not married as far as she is concerned, are we? How would that do?"

"Oh, Jack, can't we avoid secrecy and deceit?"

"Our marriage is our affair, and nobody else's. I shall send the telegram. It will relieve her of the responsibility. She can think what she likes, but she'll only know what we choose to tell her. There's a telegraph office in the station. Don't be alarmed, little one. Leave it all to me. I'll wire her 'Plans abandoned for the present.--JACK.' How will that do?"

She nodded, and sighed regretfully, and pleaded with her fine eyes, but Jack darted off and disappeared. He came back congratulating himself upon his astuteness; and when his pale, anxious wife reopened the discussion he silenced her with a laugh and a playful threat that if she said any more he would kiss her there and then on the platform before all the people.

He darted off again to bribe the guard to reserve a first-class carriage, and when that manœuvre was successfully accomplished, the excitement of adventure entered their veins, their spirits rose, and they were insanely happy.

* * * * * *

Lady Hester, waiting in suspense, and still hopeful that the reckless sacrifice of her secret might not have been in vain, received the lying message and read it with tears of joy, never doubting for a moment that she had conquered.