In the Van; or, The Builders

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Ye Builders, true on land and lake To name and Nation's glory, Though time has left you in its wake, Your stress must tell its story.
Harold Manning: wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife, to live together after God's ordinance, in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou love her, honor and keep her in sickness and in health; and forsaking all others, keep thee only unto her as long as ye both shall live? rang out in clear, solemn tones throughout the little chapel of the Abbey on that still November morning.
I will, came the answer. The few who were present heard the words with a thrill. They knew in his case how much they meant.
Helen Brandon: Wilt thou have this man to thy wedded husband, to live together after God's ordinance, in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou obey him and serve him, love, honor, and keep him in sickness and in health; and forsaking all others, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?
I will, was again the response, issuing sweetly but firmly from lips that would not tremble, although the tone brought tears to more than one pair of eyes fixed upon her as she spoke.
The ceremony and congratulations were soon over. Then the bride, on the arm of her husband, led the way down the aisle, while the tones of the Wedding March filled Grand Old Westminster to its furthest limits.
November days in London have not changed much in a century of years, although perhaps the opacity of the air was more penetrating in 1813 than it is to-day; for when the bridal party passed through the Abbey archway to the street, the mist of the early morning had developed into a dense fog, rapidly closing over the city. Hence, the coachmen had to pilot the way to almost invisible carriages, and then lead their horses in a tramp of several miles over the return journey, through almost deserted streets.
My darling, mine at last, whispered the young man as he clasped his bride in his arms under cover of the closed carriage and dense atmosphere.