In the tower stood five men, ready to pull the ropes and sound a merry peal when the service was over, and earn a guinea. They had a firkin of ale in a corner, with which to moisten their inner clay between each round. Now that they heard that the wedding party had arrived they spat on their hands and heaved their legs out of the sand.
Through the aperture in the wall entered the bridal party, a cloud of fog blowing in with them and enveloping them. They stepped laboriously through the fine sand, at this place less firm than elsewhere, having been dug into daily by the late rector in his futile efforts to clear the church.
Mr. Mules cast a suspicious look into the rafters above him to see that no profane bat was there, and opened his book.
Mr. Menaida was to act as father to the bride, and there was no other bride’s-maid than Miss Trevisa. As they waded toward the alter, Judith’s strength failed, and she stood still. Then Uncle Zachie put his arm round her and half carried her over the sand toward the place where she must stand to give herself away. She turned her head and thanked him with her eyes, she could not speak. So deathly was her whiteness, so deficient in life did she seem, that Miss Trevisa looked at her with some anxiety, and a little doubt whether she would be able to go through the service.
When Judith reached her place, her eyes rested on the sand. She did not look to her left side, she could hear no steps, for the sand muffled all sound of feet, but she knew by the cold shudder that thrilled through her, that Captain Coppinger was at her side.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here—now then order, if you please, and quiet, we are twenty-five minutes after time,” said Mr. Desiderius Mules.
The first few words, seven in all were addressed to the wedding party, the rest to a number of men and women and children who were stumbling and plunging into the church through the improvised door, thrusting each other forward, with a “get along,” and “out of the road,” all eager to secure a good sight of the ceremony, and none able to hurry to a suitable place because of the sand that impeded every step.
“Now then—I can’t stay here all day!”
Mr. Mules sniffed and applied the bandanna to his nose, as an indication that he was chilled, and that this rheum would be on the heads of the congregation, were he made ill by this delay.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered,” he began again, and he was now able to proceed.