"Yes. He is so proud of the marriage that he would like to celebrate it."
"And you, Molly?"
"I should like to be married with no one to look on, and no one to know anything about it until it was over."
"Why—there, Molly—there, we are agreed. I was in great fear that you would not think with me. My dear, if there is one thing which I abhor, it is the public ceremony and the private feasting and merriment with which a wedding is accompanied. We do not want the town to be all agog; we do not want to set all tongues wagging; nor do we want to be a show with a grand triumphal march and a feast to last three days afterwards."
"Can we be private, then?"
"Certainly. I can arrange everything. Now, Molly, my plan is this. We will be married privately in St. Nicholas Church at six in the morning, before the company are out of their beds. No one will see us; after the marriage you will come back here; I will return with you, and we will then inform the captain and your mother of the joyful news. Believe me, when they come to think it over, they will rejoice to be spared the trouble and the preparation for a wedding feast."
"But I cannot deceive the captain."
"There is no deception. He has agreed to the match. He knows that you have agreed. There is one consideration, Molly, which makes a private marriage necessary. I could not consent to a public wedding or to a wedding feast, because my rank forbids. It would be impossible for me to invite any person of my own position to such a feast, and it would be impossible for me to sit down with those persons—worthy, no doubt, and honest—whom the captain would certainly wish to invite."
This was certainly reasonable, and certainly true. Rank must be respected, and a noble earl cannot sit down to feast with merchants, skippers, mates, parsons and the like.
"Then it shall be as your lordship pleases."