Julien Morales, at his own particular request, was to read the ceremony; and three hours after noon he stood within the portals, on the highest step; a slab of white marble divided him from the bride and bridegroom, over whom a canopy was raised, supported by four silver poles.  The luxuriant hair of the bride had been gathered up, and, save two massive braids, shading her brow and cheek, was concealed under a head-dress, somewhat resembling an eastern turban, but well suited to her countenance.  Her dress, of the fashion before described, was all of white—­the jacket or bodice richly woven with gold threads; but so thick a veil enveloped face and form, that her sweet face was concealed, until, at one particular part of the mysterious rite (for such, to the Spaniards, this ceremony must have been), the veil was uplifted for her to taste the sacred wine, and not allowed to fall again.  Neither the bridegroom (agitated himself, for his was not a nature to think lightly of the nuptial rite), nor Henriquez (whose excitement was extreme) was conscious of the looks of alarm, blended with admiration, which the raising of the veil attracted towards Marie.  Lovely she was; but it was the loveliness of a marble statue, not of life—­her very lips were blanched, and every feature still, indeed; but a stillness of so peculiar an expression, so inexpressibly, so thrillingly sad, that admiration appeared indefinably and strangely transformed to pain.  The wedding ring was placed upon her hand—­a thin crystal goblet broken by Ferdinand, on the marble at his feet—­and the rites were concluded.  An almost convulsive embrace from her father—­the unusual wildness of his voice and manner, as he blessed, and called her his own precious child, who this day had placed the seal upon his happiness, and confirmed twenty years of filial devotedness and love—­awoke her from that stagnating trance.  She folded her arms round his neck, and burst into passionate tears; and there were none, not even Ferdinand, to chide or doubt that emotion—­it was but natural to her character, and the solemn service of the day.

Gay and joyous was the meal which followed the bridal.  No appurtenances of modern pomp and luxury, indeed, decorated the board:  its only ornaments were the loveliest flowers, arranged in alabaster vases, and silver baskets filled with blushing fruit.  The food was simple, and the wines not choice; but the guests thought not of mere sensual enjoyment.  In these secret meetings, each felt there was something holy; richer homes, more gorgeous feasts, were theirs in the world, whenever they so willed; but such intercourse of brotherhood seldom occurred, and when it came, was consequently hallowed.