Not till a prayer was recited could the spectators obtain a glimpse of the scene at the altar, and if this was quickly hidden from their sight they heard the vow pronounced that bound the pair together, and they likewise heard Father Norham's benediction.
Those near the altar saw the earl embrace his affianced bride as they rose together, and some of them remarked that she looked strangely pale. Only for a minute, for her colour quickly returned. The prince, however, noticed the circumstance, and so did Dorothy. But both attributed it to deep emotion.
Nothing whatever marred the ceremony, the sole fault of which, in the opinion of the majority of those present, was that it was too brief.
Several of the household grouped themselves on either side of the path leading to the gate to offer their good wishes to the newly-affianced pair as they passed by. Among these were old Nicholas Ribbleton, and an elderly dame who, like himself, had lived in the family for years.
“Eh! she's a bonnie lass!” cried this old woman, after scrutinising her sharply. “But I doubt if she'll make his lordship happy. He had better have chosen Dorothy F orster.”
“Why, what ails her?” said Ribbleton.
“I cannot exactly tell—but there's a look about her I don't like.”
“Well, it's too late to change now, Grace,” observed Ribbleton. “The troth is plighted.”
“Ay, that's the worst of it,” rejoined the old woman. “But a time may come, when his lordship will wish what's done were undone.”
This was the only discordant note uttered, and it reached no other ear but Ribbleton's, and him it made angry. So he walked off, and left the old prophetess of ill to herself.