rustic church. It was a picturesque old-fashioned place, evidently the
resort of the ritualistic, for there were lighted candles on the altar
and great bunches of scented flowers. The flowers lent a charm to the
church and gave a memory of the fresh outer air, from which one is apt
to feel so desolately shut out when encased within consecrated walls.
The candles, also, were much needed, for the windows were stained
in such deep red and purple tints that an early morning sun could
hardly pierce the painting. The people present at this unconventional
wedding were, besides the chief couple and their "best man," Tregurtha,
Eric, the parson, who now surged gorgeously in from the vestry with
flowing gown and ponderous prayer-book; the elderly and orthodox
clerk or verger, who followed with a mien of severe desire to see a
tiresome ceremony properly performed; then, lastly, an aged crone, of
the sweeping and dusting persuasion, on whose neck Lyndis would fain
have wept, in default of another woman. But our brides shed no tears
nowadays. The times are undemonstrative, and thus the drooping veil,
whose original use was to conceal unbecoming traces of tears, now only
serves to soften the marble rigidity of resignation. Who that has
once seen it can ever forget the Iphigenia-like air of beauty at the
hymeneal! And then the wretched bridegroom! Whether he stands trembling
before the statuesque bride, or kneeling, with the shiny soles of his
patent-leather boots in view, what an advertisement to his bachelor
friends against matrimony!
The present wedding was more cheery than most, however. Roscoria was
fairly cool, but that was partly because he had not been able to afford
a new coat for the auspicious occasion. Lyndis, to be sure, thought she
was marrying (unlike the generality of brides) a man she loved, and
this, moreover, in defiance of her guardian's wishes--a circumstance
which must have lent an additional charm to the deed--Lyndis stood
looking white, white and terrified; all her own rashness and the
inevitable uncertainty of her future filling her thoughts. Her head
was bent and her fingers clasped, and nervously bent back; she was
retaining every atom of her self-control, but saying what she had to
say mechanically, with a low voice, like the echo of her own sighing
through cloister aisles.
"Cheer up, my darling!" said Louis in an audible whisper, just as the
clergyman opened his mouth.
"Dearly beloved--_hush!_" began Eric Rodda; and even Lyndis, with all
her chastened "amazement," could not resist a smile.
Tregurtha had given the bride away; Roscoria had at last found the
ring, wrapped carefully up in his fly-book; names had been duly signed
with atrocious pens in the vestry; and the bridegroom saluted the
bride. But to do this last it was not essential to call in the verger
as a witness, so the young people left Tregurtha and Rodda behind and
took a merry run in the sunshine, down-hill toward the village. And as
they danced along on the dewy grass, with their arms interlaced and
their laughing improvident young faces upturned one to the other, they
turned a sharp corner and Lyndis gave a little scream of horror, for
she had nearly fallen into the arms of the admiral!
As long as he lives Roscoria swears, he shall never forget how he was
feeling whilst Lyndis shrank back with outstretched averting hands,
exclaiming tremulously:
"My dearest uncle! this--this is an unexpected pleasure!"
"Lyndis Villiers--you wretched woman."
"You are twenty minutes behind the times, Sir John," interrupted
Roscoria, stepping in front of the lady. "Lyndis is Mrs. Roscoria."
"Have you married her?" gasped the admiral, still too much done for
even to swear.
"I--I--did--I have. Oh, Rodda!" appealed the bridegroom, as the curate
came up with Tregurtha, "fetch the admiral the certificate, and beg him
to be calm for the sake of Lyndis!"
It was evident that the admiral was in great perplexity. He saw he was
too late.
"And _you_ permitted this, you scoundrel!" he roared, turning upon
Tregurtha with fury. Richard flushed up; he had been afraid of this. He
simply saluted and said, humbly:
"I can only ask your pardon, sir; we have all behaved very badly."
"Ha! yes, my niece Rosetta knows a scamp when she sees one. Confound
you, sir!" and the admiral turned his back upon his shamefaced
subordinate. He confronted Roscoria, and this time with a peculiar
expression of malicious gratification under his rage. After all, when
your next-door neighbor has run away with your niece, there is a unique
joy in the thought of how he shall reap the whirlwind. Sir John put up
his eye-glass and surveyed the husband of his niece from head to foot
with a smile.
"Well," said Roscoria, with an air of buoyant courtesy, which passed
but poorly with his stammering, "I'm awfully sorry we have brought you
so far after us--but--since you are here--would you?--may we request
the honor?--we have ordered breakfast at the Red Lion."
That was going too far. The admiral gave one of his snorts, grasped his
cane, and absolutely shook it in the face of the speaker. In another
instant there would have been a row royal, and the preliminary electric
thrill went through the whole party. Lyndis stepped in. She softly
removed Roscoria's protective hand from off her shoulder, and said with
decision:
"Let me speak to him, Louis."
The men withdrew a little as she went across to the infuriated admiral,
and said to him:
"Sir John, dear, we do not want to defy you, and we never did. But
indeed there was nothing to be said against the owner of Torres,
except that he was poor. Was I also poor? Well, then, I was accustomed
to a simple mode of life, and, bless my soul! that is all I have
to fear; there is no starvation in the case. Perhaps I should have
behaved differently; but, dear Sir John, am I not young? I loved him.
And in any case, here I am, Roscoria's wife. My marriage cannot be
overlooked; would it be seemly? Why not go home without any scandal,
and be thankful that you are rid of a charge that I fear has been
very troublesome to you. And you will go to the Red Lion first, will
you not? and have some breakfast apart from us. Dear sir, think of
Rosetta's feelings--and of my inextinguishable remorse--if you were to
take a chill! Come, let me walk a piece of the way with you; the men
will follow. That you should have come out on this rough sea so early
in the morning! That is the only thing which shadows my happiness. I do
not ask your forgiveness, but I _should_ like your portrait--the one in
uniform, of course--you will send it me, will you not? Yes?"
Lyndis bent her ruffled golden head and looked into his face with her
sweet starry eyes. Now, the admiral had never been inaccessible to the
wiles of lovely woman, and Lyndis had never before cared or dared to
coax him. He began for the first time to see that there was something
else in the girl beyond a fine figure. And thus it came that he put his
hand furtively into his pocket and said, grumbling and awesome, but
relenting:
"You're my own brother's child, unluckily, so here's ten pounds for
your honeymoon. You will remember that I have made an effort--and a
very considerable one it was, too, for an old gentleman of sixty--to
bring you back to your duty; if I am too late, you may blame your own
cunning for that, when in future days you may wish this morning's work
undone. Begad, I will make it warm for your husband! He wasn't set down
on the next estate to mine for nothing. There--there--a pleasant trip
to you, girl; I cannot congratulate you on your choice, but we must
hope for the best; good-morning!"
Then Tregurtha discovered that there was only just time for the newly
wedded to breakfast at the inn before the coach should be arriving
which was to convey them to Barnstaple, where they were to take the
train for Penzance. So up the main street of Clovelly went the wedding
party.
The informal little wedding breakfast had a far cheerier air than the
funereal orthodox one. Instead of being presided over by awful footmen
and hired waiters, the quartet was served by one sympathetic maid, who
brought them an honest rustic repast of eggs and bacon, buttered cakes,
and Devonshire cream, tea, and cider. It was all wonderfully Arcadian,
and the little room was very pretty, with its walls covered with old
china, and the creepers forcing their way in through the open window.
Lyndis shone on the occasion.
Nor was there any time for sentiment, nor any ghastly speeches.
Tregurtha did indeed raise his teacup, with a bow to Lyndis and a wink
to Roscoria, and endeavor to drink its contents off at a draught, but,
burning his mouth, he was forced to desist.
Then Roscoria was bound to pour out a glass of cider, and say:
"My dear fellows, I am heartily obliged to you, and now let me propose
_my_ toast. (By the way, Tregurtha, have you considered the pungency
of the fact that the Greeks use the same word 'trouble' and 'wife's
relations?') Where was I? Oh, yes; allow me to propose the health
and good-humor and indemnity from chill, of my revered and feared
uncle-in-law. Admiral Sir John Villiers, K. C. B."
"Poor old fellow," said Tregurtha, reflectively; "I hear him stamping
about overhead. I hope he has got all he wants; I shall go and take him
a stiff glass of grog."
He did so, and returned with a smiling but battered expression.
"Is he any cooler?" anxiously inquired the bridegroom.
"Cooler? Molten lead--the torrid zone--a powder-magazine in full
explosion--the furnaces of Nebuchadnezzar--are about as cool as is the
admiral at this moment. I should like to see you two clear out of this,
lest he change his mind, and bring the whole population of Clovelly
down upon you."
Lyndis paled visibly and rose.
"How ever did he know we were off?" she asked.
"Yes, how indeed?" demanded Tregurtha of his friend. Roscoria looked up
and Roscoria looked down, and Roscoria finally admitted in a whispered
aside:
"Lyndis was rather fluttered, Dick, and so I kissed her--by
mistake--just under the admiral's window."
* * * * *
"Good luck to you and your ship, captain!" said Roscoria, with that air
of ill-sustained buoyancy which we all adopt during the _mauvais quart
d'heure_ of parting.
"Good-bye, Corydon," said Dick, and wrung his friend's hand. "Be off,
or you'll miss the coach."
Lyndis and Roscoria walked away together up the steep path to the high
road; Rodda had made himself scarce, and Tregurtha stood alone.
There is an advantage here and there, when your friend marries and you
don't. He keeps a more luxurious table as a rule, and you are sure of
a match-box and hot-water in your bedroom when you visit him. On the
other hand, there is something eternally gone; the old frank confidence
_a deux_ grows yearly more difficult, and, you can never more be "boys
together."
On that day a week later Captain Tregurtha was off again to sea, in
command, in a measure through the admiral's interest, of a fine ship,
the Damietta.
Rosetta, who did not see the captain again before he went, has taken
first-class honors in the Junior Cambridge Exam. of the year (logic
being specially commended), and she has now entered upon an engrossing
project in conjunction with the admiral for the importation of some
"Hereford" white-face cattle on to the Braceton farm.
Admiral Sir John Villiers bides his time. When Roscoria comes home to
cane his boys he will live to find a rod in pickle for himself. But
little recks the lover of the future thunders, for he is living under a
cloudless sky. Unlike most folk of the present day, Lyndis and Roscoria
have rushed headlong into matrimony; and if consequences _will_ fall
heavy--why, let them! they say, as they blissfully, economically, and
appropriately roam amongst the myrtles in the Scilly Isles.
* * * * * *
Transcriber's note:
A table of contents has been added.
Some inconsistent punctuation was retained (e.g. eyeglass vs.
eye-glass).
Changed oe-ligatures were changed to "oe."
Page 145, changed ? to . after "opposite bank."
Page 166, restored several missing commas to "a torrent, a storm,
hurricane, gust, squall, half-gale." These were present in the original
but lost in the reprint.
Page 173, changed "into the boot" to "into the boat."