They were married in the first week in August, and our modern Griselda went through the ceremony with much grace. That there was much grace about Sir John Ball, I cannot say; but gentlemen, when they get married at fifty, are not expected to be graceful.

“There, my Lady Ball,” said Mrs Mackenzie, whispering into her cousin’s ear before they left the church; “now my prophecy has come true; and when we meet in London next spring, you will reward me for all I have done for you by walking out of a room before me.”

But all these honours, and, what was better, all the happiness that came in her way, Lady Ball accepted thankfully, quietly, and with an enduring satisfaction, as it became such a woman to do.