“Thank you, Will. You and Brune are father and mother to me to-day. There is no one else.”
“Never mind, my little lass. We are enough.”
She was alone in the carriage. Will and Brune rode on either side of her. The Frosthams, the Dawsons, the Bellendens, the Atkinsons, and the Lutons followed. Will had invited every one to the church, and curiosity brought those who were not 103 moved by sympathy or regard. Fortunately the rain held off, though the air was damp and exceedingly depressing.
When they arrived at Aspatria Church, they found the yard full; every gravestone was occupied by a little party of gossips. At the gate there was a handsome travelling-chariot with four horses. It lifted a great weight of apprehension from William Anneys, for it told him that Fenwick had kept his word. He helped Aspatria to alight, and his heart ached for her. How 104 would she be able to walk between that crowd of gazing, curious men and women? He held her arm tight against his big heart, and Brune, carefully watching her, followed close behind.
But Aspatria’s inner self had taken possession of the outer woman. She walked firmly and proudly, with an erect grace, without hesitation and without hurry, toward her fate. Something within her kept saying words of love and encouragement; she knew not what they were, only they strengthened her like wine. She passed the church door whispering the promise given her,—“It is I. Be not afraid.” And then her eyes fell upon the ancient stone font, at which her father and mother had named her. She put out her hand and just touched its holy chalice.
The church was crowded with a curious and not unsympathetic congregation. Aspatria Anneys was their own, a dales-woman by a thousand years of birthright. Fenwick was a stranger. If he were going to do her any wrong, and Will Anneys was 105 ready to punish him for it, every man and woman present would have stood shoulder to shoulder with Will. There was an undefined expectation of something unusual, of something more than a wedding. This feeling, though unexpressed, made itself felt in a very pronounced way. Will and Brune looked confidingly around; Aspatria gathered courage with every step. She felt that she was among her own people, living and dead.
As soon as they really entered the church, they saw Fenwick. He was with an officer wearing the uniform of the Household Troops; and he was evidently pointing out to him the ancient tombs of the Ambar-Anneys family, the Crusaders in stone, with sheathed swords and hands folded in prayer, and those of the family abbots, adorned with richly floriated crosses.
When he saw Aspatria he bowed, and advanced rapidly to the altar. She had loosened her cloak and flung back her hood, and she watched his approach with 106 eyes that seemed two separate souls of love and sorrow. One glance from them troubled him to the seat of life. He motioned to the waiting clergyman, and took his place beside his bride. There was a dead stillness in the church, and a dead stillness outside; the neighing of a horse sounded sharp, imperative, fateful. A ripple of a smile followed; it was a lucky omen to hear a horse neigh. Brune glanced at his sister, but she had not heeded it. Her whole being was swallowed up in the fact that she was standing at Ulfar’s side, that she was going to be his wife.