Even for her sake.  But presently her voice
    Was turned to mourning for that little time
    That she’d enjoy:  she waned in her prime,
    For Atropos, with her impartial knife,
    Soon cut her thread, and therewithal her life;
    And for the time, we may it well remember
    It being in unfortunate September;
    Where we must leave her till the resurrection,
    ’Tis then the Saints enjoy their full perfection.”

Many a vow too rashly made has been followed by an equally tragic result, instances of which are to be met with in the legendary lore of our county families.  A somewhat curious legend is connected with a monument in the church of Stoke d’Abernon, Surrey.  The story goes that two young brothers of the family of Vincent, the elder of whom had just come into his estate, were out shooting on Fairmile Common, about two miles from the village.  They had put up several birds, but had not been able to get a single shot, when the elder swore with an oath that he would fire at whatever they next met with.  They had not gone far before a neighbouring miller passed them, whereupon the younger brother reminded the elder of his oath, who immediately fired at the miller, and killed him on the spot.  Through the influence of his family, backed by large sums of money, no effective steps were taken to apprehend young Vincent, but, after leading a life of complete seclusion for some years, death finally put an end to the insupportable anguish of his mind.

A pretty romance is told of Furness Abbey, locally known as “The Abbey Vows.”  Many years ago, Matilda, the pretty and much-admired daughter of a squire residing near Stainton, had been wooed and won by James, a neighbouring farmer’s son.  But as Matilda was the only child, her father fondly imagined that her rare beauty and fortune combined would procure her a good match, little thinking that her heart was already given to one whose position he would never recognise.  It so happened, however, that the young people, through force of circumstances, were separated, neither seeing nor hearing of each other for some years.

At last, by chance, they were thrown together, when the active service in which James was employed had given his fine manly form an appearance which was at once imposing and captivating.  Matilda, too, was improved in every eye, and never had James seen so lovely a maid as his former playmate.  Their youthful hearts were disengaged, and they soon resolved to render their attachment as binding and as permanent as it was pure and undivided.  The period had arrived, also, when James must again go to sea, and leave Matilda to have her fidelity tried by other suitors.  Both, therefore, were willing to bind themselves by some solemn pledge to live but for each other.  For this purpose they repaired, on the evening before James’s departure, to the ruins of Furness Abbey.  It was a fine autumnal evening; the sun had set in the greatest beauty, and the moon was hastening up the eastern sky; and in the roofless choir they knelt, near where the altar formerly stood, and repeated, in the presence of Heaven, their vows of deathless love.