As thus he spoke, with his mind glowing with the memory of the day when he had mingled in the battle fray, side by side, with the sire of the gallant youth who knelt at his feet, the tones of the abbot’s voice rose high and clear, and with eyes upraised to heaven, and outspread hands, he seemed to implore a benizen upon the bridal pair.
One shout, long and deep, ascended from the multitude. Adrian arose upon his feet, and lifted the gorgeous coronet from his brow. He took the fair Ladye Annabel by the hand, and as the blushes grew deeper on her cheek, he impressed upon her brow a kiss that told at once of the love of the youth for his mistress, and the admiration of the knight for his fair ladye.
He extended his hand, and in an instant the coronet rested upon the brow of the lovely bride.
The vast cathedral roof echoed with the thunder shout of the myriad voices, the strains of the swelling music filled the air, at each pause of the deafening cries of joy; the warriors flung their swords in the air, the fair dames and damosels waved their snow-white hands on high, and one universal gush of joy hailed the fair Ladye Annabel Duchess of Florence!
“My own fair bride,” Adrian whispered, “the night has passed, and our morning cometh.”
While her heart yet throbbed with indefinable emotion, Adrian led his gentle bride to the ducal chair, and side by side, they awaited the homage of the noble throng of lords and ladies, knights and damosels.
Many a noble lord, and many a haughty dame, advancing to the throne, bowed low at the feet of the Duke Adrian, and kissed the fair hand of the Duchess Annabel.
At last a man of lofty stature, and commanding port, with locks of gray hair falling back from a stern, determined face, paled by disease, and wan with thought, and ascending the steps of the throne, sank on one knee before the duke.
“Rise, brave knight,” exclaimed Adrian; “rise brave Sir Geoffrey O’ Th’ Longsword; rise lord keeper of our castle Di Albarone. Thy youth has been wasted fighting for the cause of the late venerated lord; thy age shall be rendered calm and peaceful within the walls of the castle, with whose brave soldiers thou hast so often gone forth to the ranks of battle.”
And placing the baton of command within the hand of the brave knight, he raised him from his kneeling position. Sir Geoffrey o’ th’ Longsword replied not to the Duke with words of flattery.—One glance of the eye, and one grasp of the hand, was all the answer that greeted the Duke Adrian.