“Cruel,” said he in loud and emphatic tones, “wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her so long as ye both shall live?”
The response of Coppinger went through the heart of Judith like a knife. Then the rector addressed her. For answer she looked up at him and moved her lips. He took her hand and placed it in that of Coppinger. It was cold as ice and quivering like an aspen leaf. As Captain Coppinger held it, it seemed to drag and become heavy in his hand, whilst he pronounced the words after the rector, making oath to take Judith as his own. Then the same words were recited to her, for her to repeat in order after the priest. She began, she moved her lips, looked him pleadingly in the face, her head swam, the fog filled the whole church and settled between her and the rector. She felt nothing save the grip of Coppinger’s hand, and sank unconscious to the ground.
“Go forward,” said Cruel. Mr. Menaida and Aunt Dionysia caught Judith and held her up. She could neither speak nor stir. Her lips were unclosed, she seemed to be gasping for breath like one drowning.
“Go on,” persisted Cruel, and holding her left hand he thrust the ring on her fourth finger, repeating the words of the formula.
“I cannot proceed,” said the Reverend Desiderius.
“Then you will have to come again to-morrow.”
“She is unconscious,” objected the rector.
“It is momentary only,” said Aunt Dionysia; “be quick and finish.”
Mr. Mules hesitated a moment. He had no wish to return in like weather on another day; no wish again to be kept waiting five and twenty minutes. He rushed at the remainder of the office and concluded it at a hand gallop.
“Now,” said he, “the registers are at the rectory. Come there.”