my fatal destiny with yours. But now that you need no longer dread the
contagion of my misfortune; that you, like me, are a captive, disgraced
and oppressed; now that you are about to die, I come to you, hoping that
you will at least deign, Ordener, my lord and husband, to allow her who
could never have shared your life, to be your companion in death; for
you love me too much, do you not, to doubt for an instant that I shall
die with you?”
The prisoner fell at her feet, and kissed the hem of her gown.
“You, old man,” she resumed, “must take the place of family and parents.
This cell shall be our temple, this stone our altar. Here is my ring; we
kneel before God and before you. Bless us, and pronounce the sacred
words which shall unite Ethel Schumacker and Ordener Guldenlew, her
lord.”
And they knelt together before the priest, who regarded them with
mingled astonishment and pity.
“How, my children! What would you do?”
“Father,” said the girl, “time presses. God and death wait for us.”
In this life we sometimes meet with irresistible powers, supreme wills
to which we yield instantly as if they were more than human. The priest
raised his eyes, sighing: “May the Lord forgive me if I do wrong! You
love each other; you have but little time to love on earth. I do not
think I shall fail in my allegiance to God if I legalize your love.”
The sweet and solemn ceremony was performed. With the final blessing of
the priest, they rose a wedded pair.
The prisoner’s face beamed with painful joy; he seemed for the first
time conscious of the bitterness of death, now that he realized the
sweetness of life. The features of his companion were sublime in their
expression of grandeur and simplicity; she still felt the modesty of a
maiden, and already exulted as a young wife.
“Hear me, Ordener,” said she; “is it not fortunate that we must die,
since we could never have been united in life? Do you know, love, what I
will do? I will stand at the window of my cell, where I can see you
mount the scaffold, so that our spirits may wing their flight to heaven
together. If I should die before the axe falls, I will wait for you; for
we are husband and wife, my adored Ordener, and this night our coffin
shall be our bridal bed.”
He pressed her to his throbbing heart, and could only utter these words,
which for him summed up all human happiness: “Ethel, you are mine!”
“My children,” said the chaplain, in a broken voice, “say farewell; it
is time.”
“Alas!” cried Ethel.
All her angelic strength returned, and she knelt before the prisoner:
“Farewell, my beloved Ordener! My lord, give me your blessing.”
The prisoner yielded to this touching request, then turned to take leave
of the venerable Athanasius Munder. The old man was kneeling at his
feet.
“What do you wish, father?” he asked in surprise.
The old man gazed at him with sweet humility: “Your blessing, my son.”
“May Heaven bless you, and grant you all the happiness which your
prayers call down upon your brother men!” replied Ordener, in touched
and solemn tones.
Soon the sepulchral arches heard their last kisses and their last
farewells; soon the rude bolts creaked noisily into place, and the iron
door separated the youthful pair who were to die, only to meet again in
eternity.