Every sort of emotion convulsed the new Lady Tancred’s heart, as they began to get near the park, with the village nestling close to its gates on the far side.  So this was the home of her love and her lord; and they ought to be holding hands, and approaching it and the thought of their fond life together there with full hearts, ­well, her heart was full enough, but only of anguish and pain.  For Tristram, afraid of the smallest unbending, maintained a freezing attitude of contemptuous disdain, which she could not yet pluck up enough courage to break through to tell him she knew how unjust and unkind she had been.

And presently they came through cheering yokels to the South Lodge, the furthest away from the village, and so under a triumphant arch of evergreens, with banners floating and mottoes of “God Bless the Bride and Bridegroom” and “Health and Long Life to Lord and Lady Tancred.”  And now Tristram did take her hand and, indeed, put his arm round her as they both stood up for a moment in the car, while raising his hat and waving it gayly he answered graciously: 

“My friends, Lady Tancred and I thank you so heartily for your kind wishes and welcome home.”

Then they sat down, and the car went on, and his face became rigid again, as he let go her hand.

And at the next arch by the bridge, the same thing, only more elaborately carried out, began again, for here were all the farmers of the hunt, of which Tristram was a great supporter, on horseback; and the cheering and waving knew no end.  The cavalcade of mounted men followed them round outside the Norman tower and to the great gates in the smaller one, where the portcullis had been.

Here all the village children were, and the old women from the almshouse, in their scarlet frieze cloaks and charming black bonnets; and every sort of wish for their happiness was shouted out.  “Bless the beautiful bride and bring her many little lords and ladies, too,” one old body quavered shrilly, above the din, and this pleasantry was greeted with shouts of delight.  And for that second Tristram dropped his lady’s hand as though it had burnt him, and then, recollecting himself, picked it up again.  They were both pale with excitement and emotion, when they finally reached the hall-door in the ugly, modern Gothic wing and were again greeted by all the household servants in rows, two of them old and gray-haired, who had stayed on to care for things when the house had been shut up.  There was Michelham back at his master’s old home, only promoted to be groom of the chambers, now, with a smart younger butler under him.

Tristram was a magnificent orderer, and knew exactly how things ought to be done.

And the stately housekeeper, in her black silk, stepped forward, and in the name of herself and her subordinates, bade the new mistress welcome, and hoping she was not fatigued, presented her with a bouquet of white roses.  “Because his lordship told us all, when he was here making the arrangements, that your ladyship was as beautiful as a white rose!”

And tears welled up in Zara’s eyes and her voice trembled, as she thanked them and tried to smile.

“She was quite overcome, the lovely young lady,” they told one another afterwards, “and no wonder.  Any woman would be mad after his lordship.  It is quite to be understood.”

How they all loved him, the poor bride thought, and he had told them she was a beautiful white rose.  He felt like that about her then, and she had thrown it all away.  Now he looked upon her with loathing and disdain, and no wonder either ­there was nothing to be done.

Presently, he took her hand again and placed it on his arm, as they walked through the long corridor, to the splendid hall, built by the brothers Adam, with its stately staircase to the gallery above.

“I have prepared the state rooms for your ladyship, pending your ladyship’s choice of your own,” Mrs. Anglin said.  “Here is the boudoir, the bedroom, the bathroom, and his lordship’s dressing-room ­all en suite ­and I hope your ladyship will find them as handsome, as we old servants of the family think they are!”

And Zara came up to the scratch and made a charming little speech.

When they got to the enormous bedroom, with its windows looking out on the French garden and park, all in exquisite taste, furnished and decorated by the Adams themselves, Tristram gallantly bent and kissed her hand, as he said: 

“I will wait for you in the boudoir, while you take off your coat.  Mrs. Anglin will show you the toilet-service of gold, which was given by Louis XIV to a French grandmother and which the Ladies Tancred always use, when they are at Wrayth.  I hope you won’t find the brushes too hard,” and he laughed and went out.

And Zara, overcome with the state and beauty and tradition of it all, sat down upon the sofa for a moment to try to control her pain.  She was throbbing with rage and contempt at herself, at the remembrance that she, in her ignorance, her ridiculous ignorance, had insulted this man ­this noble gentleman, who owned all these things ­and had taunted him with taking her for her uncle’s wealth.

How he must have loved her in the beginning to have been willing to give her all this, after seeing her for only one night.  She writhed with anguish.  There is no bitterness as great as the bitterness of loss caused by oneself.

Tristram was standing by the window of the delicious boudoir when she went in.  Zara, who as yet knew very little of English things, admired the Adam style; and when Mrs. Anglin left them discreetly for a moment, she told him so, timidly, for something to say.

“Yes, it is rather nice,” he said stiffly, and then went on:  “We shall have to go down now to this fearful lunch, but you had better take your sable boa with you.  The great hall is so enormous and all of stone, it may be cold.  I will get it for you,” and he went back and found it lying by her coat on the chair, and brought it, and wrapped it round her casually, as if she had been a stone, and then held the door for her to go out.  And Zara’s pride was stung, even though she knew he was doing exactly as she herself would have done, so that instead of the meek attitude she had unconsciously assumed, for a moment now she walked beside him with her old mien of head in the air, to the admiration of Mrs. Anglin, who watched them descend the stairs.

“She is as haughty-looking as our own ladyship,” she thought to herself.  “I wonder how his lordship likes that!”

The great hall was a survival of the time of Henry IV with its dais to eat above the salt, and a magnificent stone fireplace, and an oak screen and gallery of a couple of centuries later.  The tables were laid down each side, as in the olden time, and across the dais; and here, in the carved oak “Lord” and “Lady” chairs, the bride and bridegroom sat with a principal tenant and his wife on either side of them, while the powdered footmen served them with lunch.

And all the time, when one or two comic incidents happened, she longed to look at Tristram and laugh; but he maintained his attitude of cold reserve, only making some genial stereotyped remark, when it was necessary for the public effect.

And presently the speeches began, and this was the most trying moment of all.  For the land-steward, who proposed their healths, said such nice things; and Zara realized how they all loved her lord, and her anger at herself grew and grew.  In each speech from different tenants there was some intimate friendly allusion about herself, too, linking her always with Tristram; and these parts hurt her particularly.

Then Tristram rose to answer them in his name and hers.  He made a splendid speech, telling them that he had come back to live among them and had brought them a beautiful new Lady ­and here he turned to her a moment and took and kissed her hand ­and how he would always think of all their interests in every way; and that he looked upon them as his dear old friends; and that he and Lady Tancred would always endeavor to promote their welfare, as long as the radicals ­here he laughed, for they were all true blue to a man ­would let them!  And when voices shouted, “We want none of them rats here,” he was gay and chaffed them; and finally sat down amidst yells of applause.

Then an old apple-cheeked farmer got up from far down the table and made a long rambling harangue, about having been there, man and boy, and his forbears before him, for a matter of two hundred years; but he’d take his oath they had none of them ever seen such a beautiful bride brought to Wrayth as they were welcoming now; and he drank to her ladyship’s health, and hoped it would not be long before they would have another and as great a feast for the rejoicings over the son and heir!

At this deplorable bit of bucolic wit and hearty taste, Tristram’s face went stern as death; and he bit his lips, while his bride became the color of the red roses on the table in front of her.

Thus the luncheon passed.  And amidst countless hand-shakes of affection, accelerated by port wine and champagne, the bride and bridegroom, followed by the land-steward and a chosen few, went to receive and return the same sort of speeches among the lesser people in the tent.  Here the allusions to marital felicity were even more glaring, and Zara saw that each time Tristram heard them, an instantaneous gleam of bitter sarcasm would steal into his eyes.  So, worn out at last with the heat in the tent and the emotions of the day, at about five, the bridegroom was allowed to conduct his bride to tea in the boudoir of the state rooms.  Thus they were alone, and now was Zara’s time to make her confession, if it ever should come.

Tristram’s resolve had held him, nothing could have been more gallingly cold and disdainful than had been his treatment of her, so perfect, in its acting for ‘the game,’ and, so bitter, in the humiliation of the between times.  She would tell him of her mistake.  That was all.  She must guard herself against showing any emotion over it.

They each sank down into chairs beside the fire with sighs of relief.

“Good Lord!” he said, as he put his hand to his forehead.  “What a hideous mockery the whole thing is, and not half over yet!  I am afraid you must be tired.  You ought to go and rest until dinner ­when, please be very magnificent and wear some of the jewels ­part of them have come down from London on purpose, I think, beyond those you had at Montfitchet.”

“Yes, I will,” she answered, listlessly, and began to pour out the tea, while he sat quite still staring into the fire, a look of utter weariness and discouragement upon his handsome face.

Everything about the whole thing was hurting him so, all the pleasure he had taken in the improvements and the things he had done, hoping to please her; and now, as he saw them about, each one stabbed him afresh.

She gave him his cup without a word.  She had remembered from Paris his tastes in cream and sugar; and then as the icy silence continued, she could bear it no longer.

“Tristram,” she said, in as level a voice as she could.  At the sound of his name he looked at her startled.  It was the first time she had ever used it!

She lowered her head and, clasping her hands, she went on constrainedly, so overcome with emotion she dared not let herself go.  “I want to tell you something, and ask you to forgive me.  I have learned the truth, that you did not marry me just for my uncle’s money.  I know exactly what really happened now.  I am ashamed, humiliated, to remember what I said to you.  But I understood you had agreed to the bargain before you had ever seen me.  The whole thing seemed so awful to me ­so revolting ­I am sorry for what I taunted you with.  I know now that you are really a great gentleman.”

His face, if she had looked up and seen it, had first all lightened with hope and love; but as she went on coldly, the warmth died out of it, and a greater pain than ever filled his heart.  So she knew now, and yet she did not love him.  There was no word of regret for the rest of her taunts, that he had been an animal, and the blow in his face!  The recollection of this suddenly lashed him again, and made him rise to his feet, all the pride of his race flooding his being once more.

He put down his tea-cup on the mantelpiece untasted, and then said hoarsely: 

“I married you because I loved you, and no man has ever regretted a thing more.”

Then he turned round, and walked slowly from the room.

And Zara, left alone, felt that the end had come.