"Is there any person here present who knows any good reason why these two parties shall not be united in marriage? If so, let him speak now, or forever after hold his peace."
The candles spluttered, the flames leaped and flashed, and the shadows nodded and bowed and nodded.
"Join your right hands."
Gill took Lizzī's hand in his, and the Squire continued the ceremony, reading the form slowly, stumbling over the big words, but at last he pronounced them man and wife.
Then the shadows stood solemnly still, while Gill kissed Lizzī.
After congratulating the bride and groom, the Squire sat down to write the marriage certificate. Gill and Lizzī retired to a window and conversed in low tones. Presently, after a long while it seemed to the flustered Squire, he handed Lizzī her marriage certificate. It was written on legal-cap and tied with red tape. She received it joyfully and placed it in her bosom. There it lay, the legal testimonial of her purity, the proof of her honesty, should that ever be questioned.
The Squire gathered up the things he had brought with him, blew out the candles and left the church, going his way, while Gill and Lizzī went to her home.
CHAPTER VI.
BLIND BENNER'S JEALOUSY.
Languid Indian Summer loitered among the great mountains. Her veil, caught on the peaks, draped gracefully in the ravines and hid the valleys beneath a gray sheen. Every evening the sun set in red wrath at this persistent half concealment of her beauty, and the big hand he reached out above the horizon, the broad fingers stretching to the zenith, freed the winds that they might tear off the gauze. But they yielded to her charm and became her lovers, fanning her cheek so gently that her gossamer veil was scarcely rustled. One morning she was gone, vanished with the night, and the winds dashed in furious pursuit of her. Ah, the jilt! She will come again next year, and the silly winds will forget her fickleness, paying court to her, while she dreamily crosses the mountains.