He seemed to talk nonsense in his excitement. But Sir Robert, overjoyed at this sudden return to obedience, shed tears.
‘Now,’ said Lady Dunquerque, ‘we have no time to lose. Girls, you can go on with your father. Algernon, of course, accompanies me.’
When they were left alone, his mother began a lecture, short but sharp, on the duty of marital obedience.
‘I say no more,’ she concluded,’ on the lamentable display of temper of this morning. Under the circumstances, I pass it over on condition that you look your brightest and best all day, and that you show yourself alive to the happiness of the position I have gained for you.’
‘I think,’ he replied, ‘that in the future, if not to-day, you will congratulate yourself on my line of action.’
A strange thing for the young man to say. Afterwards they remembered it, and understood it.
Meantime the churchyard was full of the village people, and the church was crammed with the guests in wedding-favours; on the Green the band was discoursing sweet music; in the centre, an object of the deepest admiration for the village lads, stood Lord Chester’s gift, led by his boy.
At a quarter to eleven punctually, the carriage containing the bride and principal bridesmaid, a lady also of the Inner Bar, about her own age, arrived. The bride was beautifully dressed in a rich white satin. She was met in the porch by the other bridesmaids, including the groom’s sisters. All were in great spirits, and even the harsh face of the bride looked smiling and kind. The sisters, reassured on the score of their brother, were rejoicing in the sunshine of the day, the crowds, and the general joy. Sir Robert and the other elderly gentlemen were standing in meditation, or devoutly kneeling before the chancel.
Hush! silence! Hats off in the churchyard! There are the wheels of the bridegroom’s carriage. Here come the Vicar and the Choir ready to strike up the Processional Hymn. Clash, clang the bells! one more, and altogether, if it brings down the steeple! Now the lads make a lane outside. Off hats! Cheer with a will, boys! Hurrah for the bridegroom! He sits beside his mother, his head back, his eyes flashing; he laughs a greeting to the crowd.
‘Capital, Algernon!’ says his mother. ‘Now subdue your joy; we are at the lych-gate.’