"Ah!" said Lady Bassett; "what is that for? Do you know, Mary?"
"No, my lady. Shall I ask?"
"No; I dare say it is a village wedding."
"No, my lady, there's nobody been married here this six weeks. Our
kitchen-maid and the baker was the last, you know. I'll send, and know
what it is for." Mary went out and dispatched the first house-maid she
caught for intelligence. The girl ran into the stable to her
sweetheart, and he told her directly.
Meantime Lady Bassett moralized upon church-bells.
"They are always sad--saddest when they seem to be merriest. Poor
things! they are trying hard to be merry now; but they sound very sad
to me--sadder than usual, somehow."
The girl knocked at the door. Mary half opened it, and the news shot
in--"'Tis for Squire Bassett; he is bringing of his bride home to
Highmore to-day."
"Mr. Bassett--married--that is sudden. Who could he find to marry him?"
There was no reply. The house-maid had flown off to circulate the news,
and Mary Wells was supporting herself by clutching the door, sick with
the sudden blow.
Close as she was, her distress could not have escaped another woman's
eye, but Lady Bassett never looked at her. After the first surprise she
had gone into a reverie, and was conjuring up the future to the sound
of those church-bells.
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