"Here's the Missus!"

"Gi'e the owd gell a good un, lads. Hats off."

"Three cheers for the doctor."

"Gie's a ride i' the chay, doctor."

"Hooray."

The cheers were hearty enough, as Purley handed out Mrs Glaire and the bride, and began to move slowly up the path, for the excitement was such that the crowd pressed forward upon them in the midst of the deafening cries, while a faint flush came upon Eve Pelly's face, as she raised her eyes, and the icy look upon her face pa.s.sed off, thawed by the sunshine of the warm greetings.

"G.o.d bless you, Miss Eve--hooray for Miss Eve!"

"Hurray!" shouted one of the leaders of the strike. "May all her bairns be gells."

"Like their moother," shouted another.

"Hooray, lads! Gi'e her another; put your showthers into it."

There was a deafening roar from a couple of hundred throats, and then the poor school-mistress's arrangements were overset, for a voice shouted--

"Fling thee flowers now, bairns;" and the bride went up to the church on a floral carpet, and with a shower falling upon her from all around.

"What a shame!" cried the school-mistress, as the party disappeared through the porch, and she was carried after them by the crowd which followed.

"Niver mind, owd la.s.s, the bairns can pick 'em up, and fling 'em again."

Poor flowers, they looked crushed and drooping now, though, as Eve Pelly walked up the damp old aisle, feeling as if it were all some dream, and beginning to tremble now as she approached the altar, where the rest of the party were a.s.sembled, from among whom came Richard, who had cast off his supercilious air, and was trying to play his part of bridegroom as became his position.

The young fellow was flushed now with the excitement of the scene, and somewhat carried away by the interest displayed by the town on the occasion of his marriage. He hardly heeded his mother's words as she clung to his hand for a moment, and whispered--

"You see, my son: now take your position that your father won for you, of the first man in Dumford."

"I will, mother," he exclaimed, proudly; and he glanced round the church, to see it crowded, even the aisles being densely packed, a low, murmuring buzz arising, which was checked, though, as the vicar, in his white surplice, moved from behind the great tomb, looking white almost as the linen he wore, and took his place inside the low wooden altar rails, which Jacky Budd bustled officiously to close, giving his lips a smack as if he scented the feasting that generally followed this operation, and hastened to replace the ha.s.socks in front of the little gates.

Eve's eyes rested upon the vicar's for a moment as she was led by some one, she could not tell whom, and told to stand in a particular position: there was a strange whirring sound in her head, and the place was alternately swimming round her, and then coming to a dead stand, and beginning to recede, till the whole of the chancel seemed to be reproduced with photographic minuteness far away, as if seen through the wrong end of a telescope.

Then the mutterings of the crowd in the church reached her; Mrs Glaire whispered, "Be strong for my sake," and Richard Glaire, dimly seen, stood beside her; and before her, calm and motionless, divided from her by the quaint old wooden barrier, soon to be divided from her by bars that were a thousand times as strong, stood the man that she knew and owned now, with a kind of desperation, that she loved.

It was a blasphemy, she told herself, to stand there as she did, ready to lie before her Maker; but as she mentally said this she prayed that her sin might be forgiven, and her act looked upon as a sacrifice to save her who had been to her as a mother, and Richard Glaire from a downward career; and as this prayer was repeated she heard the deep, sad voice of the vicar speaking.

The words came slowly, and the utterance grew deeper as, hardly able to bear the bitter agony he experienced, Murray Selwood addressed the first solemn words of the service to those before him, going on to "I require and charge you both," while the silence in the church was almost painful.

Then turning to Richard, and with his voice rising, he asked the question--

"Wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife, to live together after G.o.d's ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou love her, (a pause) comfort her, (another pause) honour, and keep her in sickness and in health; and forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her, (a long and painful pause, during which Richard Glaire winced as he tried to meet the questioning eyes fixed on his, and failed) so long as ye both shall live?"

"I will," answered Richard, once more trying to meet the eyes that were fixed upon him in solemn question, and failing miserably.

Those who watched the service from close by, remembered afterwards that the vicar's voice became low and trembling as, turning to Eve, he asked her--

"Wilt thou have this man to thy wedded husband, to live together after G.o.d's ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honour, and keep him in sickness and in health; and forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him so long as ye both shall live?"

There was a dead silence, and Richard Glaire felt his breath catch, as if a hand was at his throat, as he saw Eve look wildly round from face to face, and at last let her eyes rest with a horrified expression upon those of the man who had asked her that solemn question. So deep was the silence, that a whisper would have been plainly heard, and the voice of the clerk sounded painful and strange, as he said in a low voice--"Answer 'I will.'"

There was another painful pause, and then throwing herself on her knees, and clutching the altar rail as one might have sought sanctuary in days of old, Eve shrieked out--

"No, no, no, no--G.o.d forgive me--I do not love him, and I never can!"

Richard Glaire muttered an oath between his teeth, and stooped to raise her, but the book was dropped, and the vicar's strong arm thrust him away.

"Stand back, sir," he exclaimed; "this marriage cannot proceed. Mr Purley."

The doctor stepped forward, raised, and laid the fainting girl upon the cushions hastily spread upon the stones of the chancel; and, tearing off his surplice, the vicar was the first to bring wine, and take one of the cold thin hands, as he knelt beside her, while Richard, trembling with fury, sought to be heard.

"It's no use," said the doctor, firmly. "Poor girl! over-excitement-- nerves unstrung. We shall have brain fever if there is not the greatest care."

"It's all nonsense," cried Richard, pa.s.sionately. "A mere whim--a girl's silly fainting-fit. Bring her to, doctor, and the marriage shall go on."

"I told you, sir," said the vicar, sternly, "that it could not go on.

Poor girl: she could bear no more."

"But," shrieked Richard, "it shall go on. Do you think I'll be made such a fool of before the town? Curse you, this is your doing, and--"

"Silence, sir," thundered the vicar. "You are in G.o.d's house. Leave it this instant."

Richard clenched his fists menacingly, but the stern eyes upon him made him drop them, and he fell back, the crowd opening to let him pa.s.s, when Mrs Glaire tottered to his side.

"My son, my son," she faltered, clinging to his hand, but he flung her off, and strode out at the little chancel door, ran hastily round to where the carriage with its four greys was in waiting, and as the wondering crowd closed round, he whispered to the nearest post-boy:--"Quick--to the station. Gallop!" The crowd parted and the boys raised a cheer; and, as if to make the mocking sounds more painful, a man ran out from the Bull with a red-hot poker, and applied it to one of the little rough cannon.

There was a deafening explosion, and a tremendous jerk, as the frightened horses tore off at full gallop along the High Street, the chariot swaying from side to side on its tall springs, while all the postboys could do was to keep their seats.

Shrieks and cries arose as the horses tore along, gathering speed at each stride, and growing more frightened at the gathering noise.

On past the various houses, past his home and the works, and Richard clung desperately to the seat. For a moment he thought of throwing himself out, but in that moment he saw himself caught by the wheel, and whirled round and beaten into a shapeless pulp, and with a cry of horror he sank back.

On still, and on, at a wild gallop; and, to his horror, Richard saw that the horses were making straight for the great chalk pit, and in imagination he saw the carriage drawn right over the precipice, to fall crushed to atoms upon the hard ma.s.ses below.

"I cannot bear this," he exclaimed; and, turning the handle, he was about to leap out when the fore wheel of the chariot came with fearful violence against the short thick milestone; there was a tremendous crash as the vehicle was turned completely over, and Richard knew no more.

A dozen stout fellows, who had run panting after the carriage, came up a few minutes later, to find one of the postboys holding the trembling horses, which, after being released from the wreck, they had succeeded in stopping, and the other was striving hard to extricate Richard from where he lay, crushed and bleeding, amidst the splinters of the broken chariot.

The st.u.r.dy foundry-men soon tore away the part of the carriage that held the injured man, and a gate being taken from its hinges, he was carried back to the town; the doctor, who had been attending Eve at the vicarage, where she had been carried, having reached his house to fetch some medicine, which he sent on with a message to Mrs Glaire, who was in ignorance of the catastrophe, to come home at once.

Volume 3, Chapter XIX.

REST AT LAST.

A couple of months had glided away, during which time Richard Glaire had recovered from the severe injuries he had received in the accident, and then, as he said, gone on the continent to recruit his shattered nerves; though in confidence Doctor Purley told his lodger d.i.c.k Glaire's nerves were stronger than ever, in consequence of eight weeks' enforced attention to the orders of his medical man.