Lord Elmwood struck his forehead in doubt and agitation; but, still holding her hand, he cried, “I cannot part from her.” Then feeling this reply as equivocal, he fell upon his knees, and cried, “Will you pardon my hesitation? and will you, in marriage, show me that tender love you have not shown me yet? Will you, in possessing all my affections, bear with all my infirmities?”
She raised him from her feet, and by the expression of her countenance, by the tears that bathed his hands, gave him confidence.
He turned to Sandford—then placing her by his own side, as the form of matrimony requires, gave this for a sign to Sandford that he should begin the ceremony. On which, he opened his book, and—married them.
With voice and manners so serious, so solemn and so fervent, he performed these rites, that every idea of jest, or even of lightness, was absent from the mind of all who were present.
Miss Milner, covered with shame, sunk on the bosom of Miss Woodley.
When the ring was wanting, Lord Elmwood supplied it with one from his own hand, but throughout all the rest of the ceremony, appeared lost in zealous devotion to Heaven. Yet, no sooner was it finished, than his thoughts descended to this world. He embraced his bride with all the transport of the fondest, happiest bridegroom, and in raptures called her by the endearing name of “wife.”
“But still, my Lord,” cried Sandford, “you are only married by your own church and conscience, not by your wife’s, or by the law of the land; and let me advise you not to defer that marriage long, lest in the time you disagree, and she should refuse to become your legal spouse.”
“I think there is danger,” returned Lord Elmwood, “and therefore our second marriage must take place to-morrow.”
To this the ladies objected, and Sandford was to fix their second wedding-day, as he had done their first. He, after consideration, gave them four days.
Miss Woodley then recollected (for every one else had forgot it) that the carriage was still at the door to convey Lord Elmwood far away. It was of course dismissed—and one of those great incidents of delight which Miss Milner that morning tasted, was to look out of the window, and see this very carriage drive from the door unoccupied.