"Ah! yes! ahem! thank you!" said the clerk. "Now, if you'll sign, please."
They signed, the old clergyman peering down at them with a benign and utterly senile smile.
He had never heard of Lord Ferrers or of Lord Leyton, and this string of names might belong to some young shopkeeper's assistant for all he knew or cared; but he did inquire for the license.
"I put it in the book," said Austin Ambrose. He had got it in his pocket.
"Oh, very well! Yes, thank you! Well, I trust you will be happy, young couple; yes, with all my heart. You have got a beautiful morning; and where are you going to spend your honeymoon?"
"In France," said Austin Ambrose, blandly. "So we must hurry away. Good-morning, sir," and slipping their fees into the hands of parson, clerk, and pew-opener, he made for the door.
"My wife!" said Blair again. "George! I can scarcely believe it is true!" and he looked round with a half-dazed glance; but it changed to one of triumph and happiness as he drew her arm within his and pressed it to his side.
"Yes, you are man and wife," said Austin Ambrose, "and I echo the good old clergyman's wish, 'May you be very happy,'" and he held out his hand.
Blair seized it and wrung it.