The following day, Evert Beekman and Beulah Willoughby were married.  The ceremony took place, immediately after breakfast, in the little chapel; no one being present but the relatives, and Michael O’Hearn, who quieted his conscience for not worshipping with the rest of the people, by acting as their sexton.  The honest county Leitrim man was let into the secret—­as a great secret, however—­at early dawn; and he had the place swept and in order in good season, appearing in his Sunday attire to do honour to the occasion, as he thought became him.

A mother as tender as Mrs. Willoughby, could not resign the first claim on her child, without indulging her tears, Maud wept, too; but it was as much in sympathy for Beulah’s happiness, as from any other cause.  The marriage in other respects, was simple, and without any ostentatious manifestations of feeling.  It was, in truth, one of those rational and wise connections, which promise to wear well, there being a perfect fitness, in station, wealth, connections, years, manners and habits, between the parties.  Violence was done to nothing, in bringing this discreet and well-principled couple together.  Evert was as worthy of Beulah, as she was worthy of him.  There was confidence in the future, on every side; and not a doubt, or a misgiving of any sort, mingled with the regrets, if regrets they could be called, that were, in some measure, inseparable from the solemn ceremony.

The marriage was completed, the affectionate father had held the weeping but smiling bride on his bosom, the tender mother had folded her to her heart, Maud had pressed her in her arms in a fervent embrace, and the chaplain had claimed his kiss, when the well-meaning sexton approached.

“Is it the likes of yees I wish well to!” said Mike—­“Ye may well say that; and to yer husband, and childer, and all that will go before, and all that have come after ye!  I know’d ye, when ye was mighty little, and that was years agone; and niver have I seen a cross look on yer pretthy face.  I’ve app’inted to myself, many’s the time, a consait to tell ye all this, by wor-r-d of mouth; but the likes of yees, and of the Missus, and of Miss Maud there—­och! isn’t she a swate one! and many’s the pity, there’s no sich tall, handsome jontleman to take her, in the bargain, bad luck to him for staying away; and so God bless ye, all, praist in the bargain, though he’s no praist at all; and here’s my good wishes said and done.”

Chapter X.

  Ho!  Princes of Jacob! the strength and the stay
  Of the daughters of Zion;—­now up, and away;
  Lo, the hunters have struck her, and bleeding alone
  Like a pard in the desert she maketh her moan: 
  Up with war-horse and banner, with spear and with sword,
  On the spoiler go down in the might of the Lord!

  Lunt.