Aurelia looked up with bashful eagerness, and saw in the imperfect light a tall figure entirely covered by a long dark dressing-gown, a grey, tight curled lawyer’s wig on the head, and the upper part of the face sheltered from the scanty rays of the lamp by a large green shade.

Taking his place opposite to her as Mr. Hargrave arranged them, he bowed in silence to the clergyman, who, in a trembling voice, began the rite which was to unite Amyas Belamour to Aurelia Delavie.  He intended to shorten the service, but his nervous terror and the obscurity of the room made him stumble in finding the essential passages, and blunder in dictating the vows, thus increasing the confusion and bewilderment of poor little Aurelia.  Somehow her one comfort was in the touch of the hand that either clasped hers, or held the ring on her finger—­a strong, warm, tender, trustworthy hand, neither as white nor as soft as she would have expected, but giving her a comfortable sense both of present support and affection, and of identity with that eager one which had sought to fondle and caress her.  There was a certain tremor about both, but hers was from bashful fright, his, from scarcely suppressed eagerness.

The steward had a form of certificate ready for signature.  When it was presented to the bridegroom he put up his hand for a moment as if to push back the shade, but, in dread of admitting even a feeble ray of light, gave up the attempt, took the pen and wrote Amyas Belamour where the clergyman pointed.  Aurelia could hardly see what she was doing, and knew she had written very badly.  The lawyer and housekeeper followed as witnesses; and the bridegroom, laying a fee of ten guineas on the desk, took his bride by the hand and led her within the door whence he had issued.  It was instantly closed, and at the same moment she was enfolded in a pair of rapturous arms, and held to a breast whose throbs wakened response in her own, while passionate kisses rained on her face, mingled with ecstatic whispers and murmurs of “Mine! mine! my own!”

On a knock at the door she was hastily released, and Mr. Hargrave said, “Here are the certificates, sir.”—­Mr. Belamour put one into her hand, saying “Keep it always about you; never part with it.  And now, my child, after all the excitement you have gone through, you shall be subjected to no more to-night.  Fare you well, and blessings attend your dreams.”

Strange that while he was uttering this almost peremptory dismissal, she should feel herself in a clinging grasp, most unwilling to let her go!  What did it all mean?  Could she indeed be a wife, when here she was alone treading the long dark stair, in looks, in habits, in externals, still only the little governess of my Lady’s children!  However, she had hardly reached her room, before there was a knock at the door, and the giggling, blushing entrance of Molly with “Please, ma’am, Madam Belamour, I wishes you joy with all my heart.  Please can’t I do nothing for you?  Shall I help you undress, or brush your hair?”