"'My chaplain at prayers! you are mighty devout, methinks,' he said, in
his coldest voice. Jerry stammered, and stumbled, and entangled his leg
in arising with the point of my father's sword; and then my father's
choler rose, and he stormed out, 'The meaning, sir, the meaning of this
idolatrous mummery? what would ye of my daughter, the Lady Frances
Cromwell?' And Jerry, like all men, though he could get into a scrape,
had not much tact at getting out; so he looked to me for assistance--and
I gave it. 'He is enamoured, please your Highness,' said I, with more
wit than grace, 'of Mistress Mabel, my chief lady.' Then, having got the
clue, Jerry went on without hesitation: 'And I was praying my Lady
Frances that she would interfere, and prevent Mistress Mabel from
exercising so much severity towards her faithful servant.' 'What ho!'
said his Highness, 'without there!--who waits?' One of the pages entered
on the instant. 'Send hither,' he commanded, 'Mistress Mabel, and also
that holy man of the Episcopal faith, who now tarrieth within the
house.' Jerry looked confounded, and I trembled from head to foot.
Mabel, with her silly face, entered almost at the moment. 'And pray,
Mistress Mabel,' said my father, 'what have you to say against my
chaplain? or why should you not be married forthwith to this chosen
vessel, Jeremiah White?' And Mabel, equally astonished, blushed and
courtesied, and courtesied and blushed. Then my father, flinging off his
hat and mailed gloves, ordered the Episcopalian to perform the ceremony
on the instant, adding, he would take the place of father, and I that of
bridesmaid. It was like a dream to us all! I never shall forget it--and
Jerry never can; it was most wonderfully comic--Only imagine it,
Constance!"
Lady Frances had been so carried away by her mirthful imagining, that
she had little heeded her mournful friend; nor was it till her last
sentence--"Only imagine it, Constance!"--that she looked fully upon her.
"Hush!" murmured Constantia in a hollow tone; "hush!" she repeated.
"Merciful Heaven! what is it?" inquired Frances, terrified at her
earnestness.
"Hush!" again said Constantia: adding, "Do you not hear?"
"Hear? I hear nothing but the tolling of the midnight bell--'Tis twelve
o'clock."
"It is," said Constantia, in a voice trembling with intense suffering;
"it is twelve o'clock---- My wedding-day is indeed come!"