“I hereby solemnly plight my faith to you, Chetwynd,” she said. “If I wed you not, I will wed no other. That I swear.”
His countenance underwent an instant change, and became lighted up with joy.
He repeated the words she had uttered; but added:
“I must not claim your hand. My task is not completed—scarcely begun.”
“I am witness to the vow you have made,” said a voice behind them.
Looking round, they perceived the old chaplain, Mr.
Massey, who had followed them unseen into the chapel.
A venerable man, in age more than fourscore, with silver locks, and a most benevolent expression of countenance.
“Heaven bless your union, whenever it takes place, and though I may not live to see it!” he said.
“I trust you may unite us, reverend sir,” said Chetwynd. “But you ought to know who I am.”