It was a strange wedding in that morning moonlight streaming in at the east window of that grand old church, and casting the shadows of the columns and arches on the floor, only aided by one wax light, which, as Mr. Heatherthwayte took care to protest, was not placed on the holy table out of superstition, but because he could not see without it.  Indeed the table stood lengthways in the centre aisle, and would have been bare, even of a white cloth, had not Richard begged for a Communion for the young pair to speed them on their perilous way, and Mr. Heatherthwayte—­almost under protest—­ consented, since a sea voyage and warlike service in a foreign land lay before them.  But, except that he wore no surplice, he had resigned himself to Master Richard on that most unnatural morning, and stifled his inmost sighs when he had to pronounce the name Bride, given, not by himself, but by some Romish priest—­when the bridegroom, with the hand wounded for Queen Mary’s sake, gave a ruby ring, most unmistakably coming from that same perilous quarter,—­and above all when the pair and the father knelt in deep reverence.  Yet their devotion was evidently so earnest and so heartfelt that he knew not how to blame it, and he could not but bless them with his whole heart as he walked down with them to the wharf.  All were silent, except that Cicely once paused and said she wanted to speak to “Father.”  He came to her side, and she took his arm instead of Humfrey’s.

“Sir,” she said; “it has come to me that now my sweet mother is left alone it would be no small joy to her, and of great service to our good host’s little daughter, if Oil-of-Gladness could take my place at home for a year or two.”

“None will do that, Cis; but there is much that would be well in the notion, and I will consider of it.  She is a maid of good conditions, and the mother is lonesome.”

His consideration resulted in his making the proposal, much startling, though greatly gratifying.  Master Heatherthwayte, who thanked him, talked of his honour for that discreet and godly woman Mistress Susan, and said he must ponder and pray upon it, and would reply when Mr. Talbot returned from his voyage.

At the wharf lay the Mastiff’s boat in charge of Gervas and Gillingham.  All three stepped into it together, the most silent bride and bridegroom perhaps that the Humber had ever seen.  Only each of the three wrung the hand of the good clergyman.  At that moment all the bells in Hull broke forth with a joyous peal, which by the association made the bride look up with a smile.  Her husband forced one in return; but his father’s eyes, which she could not see, filled with tears.  He knew it was in exultation at her mother’s death, and they hurried into the boat lest she should catch the purport of the shouts that were beginning to arise as the townsfolk awoke to the knowledge that their enemy was dead.