These remarks of course relate to the clergymen in the vestry, who are warming their boot-toes as they stand in front of the fire, like three shut out ghosts, and discuss the amount of the Vinings’ fortune, and talk of Laura Bray’s lucky hit. But as the questions are put in a general fashion by the clerk, no one conceives it to be his duty to answer, and consequently there is a dead silence; and now Laura feels, as it were, an icy hand slowly passing towards that heavily-throbbing heart of hers, nearer and nearer, as if about to clutch it, only holding off for a few moments to add to her torture in that dreadful pause, broken at length by an ominous whisper that runs through the length and breadth of the church:
“Where is the bridegroom?”
That pause must have lasted some thirty seconds; but to those in waiting it seemed an hour. Laura’s eyes were not cast down, but flashing fiercely, and the hand at her heart—the icy cold hand—now moved as if to clutch it, when she drew a long sighing breath of relief; for though hurt at the apparent neglect, she was once more elate and proud; for a voice at the entry was heard to cry, “Here they come!” and overbearing the whispers of the expectant crowd could be heard the rapid beat of galloping horses and the whirl of wheels.
“They’re a-coming down the road as hard as ever they can gallop,” whispered a man at one of the windows which commanded the way to Blandfield.
“But is it them?” said another aloud.
“Them! Of course it is; chariot and four; blue and silver. And, my word, how they are going it!”
It was an insult, certainly, his not being there in time—a cruel insult to his bride-elect; but Laura would forgive anything, for he had much to forgive in her, she whispered to herself.
“It’s all right,” said Mr Bray, nervously looking at his watch. “Blandfield time is always correct; but this church-clock is a perfect disgrace, although we are so foolish as to set our watches by it. Here he is, though!”
Cheering from the boys; galloping horses; whirring wheels, and a rapid rattling rush; and a chariot and four had dashed past the church-gates, and away down the High-street of Lexville, as fast as four well-bred horses could tear.
Away it went, swaying from side to side on its springs, faster and faster as the horses warmed to their work; and those nearer to the door ran out into the churchyard.