All was done that could add to the gaiety and joyful publicity of the marriage, and according to the custom of the times, the poor were not forgotten, but were allowed to participate in the scene. The noble parents, arm-in-arm, followed the bride, whilst Latimer and his young men, invited by Edmund Daundy, were in readiness to receive them at the steps of his house. It took but a few minutes to exchange the riding costume for the flowing veils and simple white vestments of the beautiful bride and her maids, and then the happy pair, with their attendants, proceeded to the church, whither Wolsey had gone before. The organ Daundy had presented to St. Lawrence had been purchased in France, and was for its day a wonderful instrument. Plaintive notes had been for some time issuing from its tubes, adapted to the stillness of the solitary occupant then kneeling at the altar, as if he were performing the most abstracted and spiritual devotion. The heart of that man was not to be envied. It had tormented itself with such determined endurance, that nature was completely quelled. But it was not in him to let even Ellen know that he was suffering from the sting of disappointment. Nothing would have been easier than for Wolsey to have found an excuse for not performing the ceremony. There was decided cruelty in the thing, knowing, as he certainly did, the state of his own heart and sentiments towards Ellen; but the pride of the man was predominant; and in a church and age when to mortify the body with rigorous privation was a sign of the highest faith, it was not remarkable that an ambitious man like Wolsey should act as he did. That Wolsey was a man who could command himself, by a resolute effort, was manifested in this early indication of control; but that he did it with a bad grace, these pages will prove.