Captain Carey and I were standing at the altar of the old church some minutes before the bridal procession appeared.  He looked pale, but wound up to a high pitch of resolute courage.  The church was nearly full of eager spectators, all of whom I had known from my childhood—­faces that would have crowded about me, had I been standing in the bridegroom’s place.  Far back, half sheltered by a pillar, I saw the white head and handsome face of my father, with Kate Daltrey by his side; but though the church was so full, nobody had entered the same pew.  His name had not been once mentioned in my hearing.  As far as his old circle in Guernsey was concerned, Dr. Dobree was dead.

At length Julia appeared, pale like the bridegroom, but dignified and prepossessing.  She did not glance at me; she evidently gave no thought to me.  That was well, and as it should be.  If any fancy had been lingering in my head that she still regretted somewhat the exchange she had made, that fancy vanished forever.  Julia’s expression, when Captain Carey drew her hand through his arm, and led her down the aisle to the vestry, was one of unmixed contentment.

Yet there was a pang in it—­reason as I would, there was a pang in it for me.  I should have liked her to glance once at me, with a troubled and dimmed eye.  I should have liked a shade upon her face as I wrote my name below hers in the register.  But there was nothing of the kind.  She gave me the kiss, which I demanded as her cousin Martin, without embarrassment, and after that she put her hand again upon the bridegroom’s arm, and marched off with him to the carriage.

A whole host of us accompanied the bridal pair to the pier, and saw them start off on their wedding-trip, with a pyramid of bouquets before them on the deck of the steamer.  We ran round to the light-house, and waved out hats and handkerchiefs as long as they were in sight.  That duty done, the rest of the day was our own.

CHAPTER THE FORTY-NINTH.

A TELEGRAM IN PATOIS.

What a long day it was!  How the hours seemed to double themselves, and creep along at the slowest pace they could!

I had had some hope of running over to Sark to see Tardif, but that could not be.  I was needed too much by the party that had been left behind by Captain Carey and Julia.  We tried to while away the time by a drive round the island, and by visiting many of my old favorite haunts; but I could not be myself.

Everybody rallied me on my want of spirits, but I found it impossible to shake off my depression.  I was glad when the day was over, and Johanna and I were left in the quiet secluded house in the Vale, where the moan of the sea sighed softly through the night air.

“This has been a trying day for you, Martin,” said Johanna.