“I could have sworn them two men would have been here, come what might. Titus would never have missed seeing me turned off, if there wasn’t some good reason against it. As for Mr Henry—he gave me his word, an’ his word no man have known him to break. Something be wrong, Prowse, else they’d be here, both of ’em. ’Tis last night’s work in the woods.”
“Be that as it will, better not keep stretching forward so, else you’ll burst thicky coat,” said the cautious Prowse. “I see the seams of un a-bulging over your back something cruel. There’s Johnny Beer an’ his missus. I knowed they’d come.”
Five-and-twenty people formed the little congregation; the vicar appeared; the bride with her aunt walked up the aisle.
Minnie was self-possessed as usual. She wore a light blue dress, white thread gloves, and a hat with a jay’s wing in it that Dan had given her. One swift peep up at the face of her lover she gave, one little smile touched her mouth and vanished; then, without a quiver, she pulled off her gloves and opened her prayer-book. Dan had his ready also. Beside her niece stood Mrs Maine, in a bright purple dress, and a bonnet that trembled with magenta roses and red ribbons. On Daniel’s right young Prowse appeared. He kept one hand in his trouser pocket and held the ring tightly on the tip of his little finger, so that it should be ready for the bridegroom when the critical moment came.
Mrs Sweetland was early dissolved in moisture, and Mrs Beer likewise wept. Matthew Sweetland seemed distracted and his thoughts were elsewhere, for a great terror sat at the man’s heart.
Then the ceremony concluded; the bellringers clattered back to the belfry; the wedding party entered the vestry.
A cloud hung dark over Daniel, and only Minnie had power to lessen it. He signed his name moodily and was loud to all who would listen in expressions of wonder and regret that Henry Vivian and Titus Sim had not been at his wedding.
“Of course there was the battoo at Westcombe—yet somehow—he promised, mind you—he promised. As to Sim, he must be sick; nought but illness would have kept him.”
“Don’t judge the young youth,” said Mary Maine. “You forget he wanted Minnie too. Perhaps, when it comed to the point, he felt he couldn’t bear the wrench of seeing her made over to you by holy Prayer-book for evermore.”