The Buccaneer - A Tale

"'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!"