`One would think,' said Ralph, speaking, in spite of himself, in a low and subdued voice, `that there was a funeral going on here, and not a wedding.'

`He, he!' tittered his friend, `you are so--so very funny!'

`I need be,' remarked Ralph, drily, `for this is rather dull and chilling. Look a little brisker, man, and not so hangdog like!'

`Yes, yes, I will,' said Gride. `But--but--you don't think she's coming just yet, do you?'

`Why, I suppose she'll not come till she is obliged,' returned Ralph, looking at his watch, `and she has a good half-hour to spare yet. Curb your impatience.'

`I--I--am not impatient,' stammered Arthur. `I wouldn't be hard with her for the world. Oh dear, dear, not on any account. Let her take her time--her own time. Her time shall be ours by all means.'

While Ralph bent upon his trembling friend a keen look, which showed that he perfectly understood the reason of this great consideration and regard, a footstep was heard upon the stairs, and Bray himself came into the room on tiptoe, and holding up his hand with a cautious gesture, as if there were some sick person near, who must not be disturbed.

`Hush!' he said, in a low voice. `She was very ill last night. I thought she would have broken her heart. She is dressed, and crying bitterly in her own room; but she's better, and quite quiet--that's everything!'

`She is ready, is she?' said Ralph.

`Quite ready,' returned the father.

`And not likely to delay us by any young-lady weaknesses--fainting, or so forth?' said Ralph.

`She may be safely trusted now,' returned Bray. `I have been talking to her this morning. Here--come a little this way.'

He drew Ralph Nickleby to the further end of the room, and pointed towards Gride, who sat huddled together in a corner, fumbling nervously with the buttons of his coat, and exhibiting a face, of which every skulking and base expression was sharpened and aggravated to the utmost by his anxiety and trepidation.

`Look at that man,' whispered Bray, emphatically. `This seems a cruel thing, after all.'

`What seems a cruel thing?' inquired Ralph, with as much stolidity of face, as if he really were in utter ignorance of the other's meaning.

`This marriage,' answered Bray. `Don't ask me what. You know as well as I do.'

Ralph shrugged his shoulders, in silent deprecation of Bray's impatience, and elevated his eyebrows, and pursed his lips, as men do when they are prepared with a sufficient answer to some remark, but wait for a more favourable opportunity of advancing it, or think it scarcely worth while to answer their adversary at all.

`Look at him. Does it not seem cruel?' said Bray.

`No!' replied Ralph, boldly.

`I say it does,' retorted Bray, with a show of much irritation. `It is a cruel thing, by all that's bad and treacherous!'