"I will not keep you any longer," said Arabella Stuart, rising, "it might be dangerous to you, Seymour.--I am quite ready," she added, raising her eyes to his face, while a warm blush covered her cheek. "This marriage is legal, sir, I suppose?" she continued, turning her eyes to the clergyman, who had come in with her lover and Sir Harry West. "Quite, madam," he replied; "once celebrated, no power on earth can dissolve it, so long as the marriage-vow be kept." Arabella bowed her head; and the parties being arranged in order, the ceremony proceeded, and concluded uninterrupted. Arabella answered firmly and confidently, and pledged herself for ever to William Seymour, with the fullest assurance of happiness, so far as it was in his power to bestow it. "Now, Rodney, away," cried the Countess of Shrewsbury; "go round by the passages below, and in by the other door. Say, if any one asks, that you left the lady much better; and that I will be down in a few minutes. Away! away! Sir George!" Sir George Rodney advanced a step, took Arabella's hand, and bending gracefully, pressed his lips upon it, and then retired by the Countess of Shrewsbury's apartments. He was followed in a moment or two by the clergyman, and Sir Harry West; and in about half an hour, Lady Shrewsbury reappeared in the hall of the palace, and mingled with the gay crowd below. Many were the inquiries after the Lady Arabella, from those who could love and appreciate virtue and excellence, though they might tolerate vice and folly. But Lady Shrewsbury answered, with her usual self-possession, that her niece was better, indeed quite well, but that she feared to encounter the heat again; and the subject soon dropped and was forgotten. CHAPTER XXVIII. We must once more introduce the reader into that school for idle speculation, the ante-chamber of a palace, where four young men were sitting, amusing themselves at the expense of their neighbours, and of each other. One of the principal personages was he whom we have denominated Bradshaw; another was an esquire, called Graham, of about twenty years of age; another, a youth of the name of Blount, a distant relation of the celebrated Earl of Devonshire; and the fourth was the young Sir Charles Ramsay. The day was wearing towards its close, and already the sky, which, during the whole afternoon, had been clear and bright, was becoming purple with the setting sun. The broad river, flowing on, glowed like a ruby, in the light of evening; and the white sails of the boats, as they flitted by, were tinged with the same rosy hue. "Come, let us go out and have a sail upon the water," said Ramsay, speaking to Blount; "here are Bradshaw and Graham, quite enough for all the King's purposes, and I hate being stived up here for so many hours together." "Wait till Overbury comes out," said Bradshaw, "and I will go with you. It is Graham's turn to wait; and after six, the old gossip requires only one."