Widow Lamb started up, and looking at her old round watch in its tortoiseshell-case, she saw that it was half-past seven o'clock. Vexed and angry with herself, she hurried on her clothes, and proceeded to give the boy some food, urging him to hasten his meal, as she was going to take him a walk. The temptation was strong, and at about a quarter past eight they were out of the cottage, and on the way to Tarningham Park. She heard village-bells ringing merrily, as on a day of festival; but Widow Lamb's heart was sad. The whole country was smiling in the morning light; but, though to a fine mind the beauties of nature never lose their charm, yet to the old there is, at all times, a melancholy mingled with the pleasure they produce; and to the spirit cast down with apprehension, or affliction, the very loveliness becomes a load. The boy lingered, and would fain have played by the way; but his grandmother hurried him forward as fast as his little legs could carry him; and they reached the mansion of Sir John Slingsby a few minutes before nine. There were carriages already at the door. Servants were seen bustling about; but all were too busy to take notice of the old widow and the little boy, till, going into the court-yard, she addressed herself to one of the helpers in the stable, whom she had seen and known, and told him her apprehensions about her son-in-law.
The man kindly undertook to make inquiries, and let her know the result; and leaving her there for some minutes, he came back shortly after with the butler, who told her, that Stephen Gimlet had certainly not been there the day before. "I can't stop to talk with you, goody," he said, in an important tone; "for you see Miss Slingsby is just going to set out, to be married to Lord Lenham; but, as soon as they come back from church, I will tell Sir John; and depend upon it he will have Stephen sought for."
"If I could speak with Lord Lenham for one minute," said Widow Lamb; but the man interrupted her, laughing. "You must go down to Tarningham, then, goody," he said, "for his lordship slept there last night; or else you can go down to the church of Little Tarningham, where, I dare say, he is waiting by this time; or, what is better than all, wait here till they come back; and I'll give Ste Gimlet's little boy a bit of bride-cake."
As he spoke, he hurried back again into the house; and Widow Lamb paused and thought, with the tears in her eyes; but at length she said aloud, "I will go down to the church;" and, taking the little boy by the hand, who did not at all like the idea of losing the bride-cake, she hurried out of the gates of the court, and pursued one of the small footpaths leading towards Little Tarningham. She was within fifty yards from the park paling, when Sir John Slingsby's carriages drove past at a quick rate; and Widow Lamb, though little able from much exertion, hurried her pace, till the boy was forced to run, to keep up with her. The church, as the reader knows, was at the distance of somewhat less than half a mile; and, when Widow Lamb reached it, there stood before the gates of the little churchyard, two or three handsome carriages and one post-chaise. Passing quickly along the path through the cemetery, the old woman approached the door, which was ajar, and heard the full sonorous voice of Dr. Miles reading the marriage-service. She pushed open the door gently and went in. There were a great number of people in the church, collected from Tarningham and the neighbourhood, some in the little gallery, where they could see best; some in pews in the body of the church; and one or two in the aisle. The latter, however, did not prevent the old lady from seeing straight up to the altar, around which was congregated the bridal party, with Beauchamp and Captain Hayward on the one side, and Sir John Slingsby with his family on the other. Just as Widow Lamb entered, Dr. Miles, standing before the altar, was saying aloud, "I pronounce that they be man and wife together."
It was evident the ceremony was nearly over; the marriage in fact completed. The benediction was then given, and the psalm said; and, after all those parts of the service, which are usually read, Beauchamp drew the arm of Isabella through his own and led her down the aisle towards the little vestry which stood on the right hand side of the church. The people in the pews rose up to look over; but, to the surprise of many, one of the pew-doors opened, before the newly-married couple had taken two steps; and a lady issued forth, and, turning her face towards the altar, stood right in the way of the advancing party. Her eye fixed straight upon Lord Lenham, flashing and fierce; her lip curled with a smile of contemptuous triumph, while her brow appeared knit with a heavy frown. At the same moment a voice, which some persons near recognised as that of Mr. Wharton, the attorney, exclaimed from the pew which the lady had just left, "Now she has spoiled it all."
But what was the effect of this apparition upon those in whose presence it so suddenly appeared? Beauchamp staggered and turned deadly pale; and Isabella recoiled in alarm from that menacing look and flashing eye, saying in a low tone, "Good Heaven, who is this?"
"Who am I, girl?" said the lady, aloud, "I will tell you who I am, and let him deny it if he can. I am this man's lawful wife whom you have just married--look at his face, pale, dastard conscience is upon it. He is well aware of the truth that I speak and the crime that he has committed."
But Beauchamp instantly recovered himself, and while a dead silence prevailed in the whole church, he put Isabella's hand into her father's, advanced a step towards the person before him, and fixing his eyes firmly upon her, he said,
"Charlotte Hay, you have laid once more a dark and horrible scheme to injure me. By cunning artifices and long concealment you have taught me to believe you were dead for some years, and have waited for this moment for your revenge--you know it, you dare not deny it--but you may yet find yourself deceived. In one point you are already deceived; for, doubtless, judging from your own heart, you imagine I have concealed previous events from this lady and her family. Such is not the case; and now you force upon me that which I have always avoided, the trial whether there ever was any marriage at all between myself and you."
"Avoided it, because you knew it could not be questioned," answered the lady, scornfully. "Your father and yourself took lawyers' opinion enough, and the reply of every one was that the marriage was perfectly good and valid."