Amy did not reply till her father said, “Amy, it is my wish that it should be so. Recollect it will be the last time that you have to obey your father, so do not annoy me by a refusal.”
“I will not, my dear father,” replied Amy, kissing him. “Your last command I obey with pleasure. And oh! If I have sometimes been a wilful girl, forgive me everything at this moment.”
“My dear child, I have nothing to forgive. May God bless you; and, Mr Musgrave,” said he, putting her hand in mine, “if she proves as good a wife as she has been a daughter, you now receive a treasure,” and I felt that the old man stated what was true.
It was arranged that the marriage should take place on that day week, and that it should be quite private. There was no parade of bridal clothes; in fact, no one was invited, and it was, at my request, quite a secret marriage. A clergyman had been engaged to perform the ceremony, and, on the day appointed, I received the hand of my Amy in the drawing-room, and in the presence only of Humphrey and two other confidential servants.
After the ceremony was over, the clergyman requested me to come with him into the adjoining room, and said, “it was necessary that he should give a certificate of the marriage, which must be inserted in the parish register.” He had called me aside for that purpose, that I might give him my exact name, profession, etcetera.
“My name is Alexander Musgrave, as you have heard when you married us.”
“Yes, I know that, but I must be particular. Have you no other name? Is that the name that you have been and will be in future known by?”
“Not exactly,” replied I; “I have been known by that name, but in future shall not be.”
“Then what am I to say?”
“You must say, Sir Alexander Musgrave, Baronet, of Faristone Hall, Cumberland.”