'It is all right. It is all right, I say,' cried Sir Claudius sharply. 'Proceed with the ceremony. Take no heed of a maiden's bashfulness.'
'It is not that,' I appealed to every one. 'I cannot——'
'Silence! Silence!' said more than one big, bullying voice from those who aided Sir Claudius, and they closed around me, making so much noise that my voice could not be heard.
They were all so absorbed that they did not hear loud shouts and cries outside, nor notice the entrance into the chapel of a little band of well-armed strangers, nor hear the call of 'Sir Claudius! Sir Claudius!' from the yard. Least of all did the bridegroom hear the tumult, for he was exerting himself to smother my remonstrances and compel me to take part in the service.
'Wilt thou have this woman to be thy wedded wife?' asked the clergyman in quavering, uncertain tones. He was weak and old, in terror of Sir Claudius, and more than half persuaded that he had misunderstood me. 'Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honour and keep her, in sickness and in health, and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her as long as ye both shall live?' The solemn question fell solemnly from the old man's lips, his eyes sought the bridegroom's face with great anxiety.
'I will!' cried Sir Claudius in loud, exultant tones. He looked round smilingly.
It was his hour of triumph.
'Wilt thou have this man to be thy wedded husband, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou obey and serve him, in sickness and in health, and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him as long as ye both shall live?'
'No,' I said, but the monosyllable was so low that none heard it. None of those around me I mean. There is One to whom a broken heart appeals more strongly than aught else.
'Say "I will,"' prompted the clergyman.