"Methinks I hear the angels even now ringing our marriage-bells, Percival!" she said in a low voice, as of one fearing to disturb some holy sound. "Think you not that you too can catch their far-off chiming, borne down to us on the midnight breeze?" But Percival shivered as though an icy blast had cut through his heart, and tearing himself away from her clinging arms with a deep-drawn breath of pain, plunged into the deep shade of the mysterious avenue. * * * * * * * The early morning sunlight was bathing hill and valley in its tender glow, and shooting bright gleams into the little church on the quiet hillside, when, on the morrow, those who were most to have rejoiced in the marriage of the Fair Maid of Gwynnon met, rather as mourners over the funeral of her bright hopes, before the altar, to join together in prayer and Holy Sacrament ere they left the lovers to take alone within those sacred walls their last farewell to earthly joys. None in the village knew that this bright May morning had been the day appointed for the union of her they so dearly loved with their newly-appointed vicar, already scarce less beloved by many, and none knew of the quiet gathering on the hillside, else might it have been hardly so peaceful and uninterrupted. Only old Jack the boatman, Rhiwallon, the faithful physician, and Master Jeremy Taylor knelt beside the weeping parents of the lovers, and the service ended, they with good old Master Rhys stole gently homewards, and Percival and Primrose were left alone in the silent church. Long they knelt together before the altar in mutual agony of prayer and renunciation, and while the sunshine streamed in upon their bowed heads, and the birds sang in the green branches ever waving to and fro athwart the unpainted windows, they solemnly offered "themselves, their souls and bodies a living sacrifice" to Him who demanded from them this test of devotion to His service, and with pure hearts vowed to each other unalterable love and fidelity in this world, looking for an unending union in the world to come. And though no wedding-bells rang out through the smiling vale of Gwynnon to proclaim aloud this true marriage of holy souls, the angels heard them ring through the arches of heaven, and with gentle hands dried the tears from the lovers' faces, and bade the joy-bells ring sweet echoes in their hearts. And so the Maid of Gwynnon went forth to her new home in the doomed castle, and her true knight departed into the mountain solitudes to prove his own soul amid the awful silence of the everlasting hills, until, the victory won, he might return manfully to the solitary threshold of that home where now the walls should ne'er re-echo with the sweet names of wife and husband, but where evermore fair Shanno's spirit should hover lovingly. CHAPTER XXXIV. A DEATH-BED.