“He; also, has paid the penalty of his offences,” returned Thames.
“He has fallen by the hand of Blueskin, who brought me these
packets.”
“Thank God for that!” cried Wood, heartily. “I could almost forgive
the wretch the injury he did me in depriving me of my poor dear
wife--No, not quite _that_,” he added, a little confused.
“And now,” said Thames, (for we must still preserve the name,) “you
will no longer defer my happiness.”
“Hold!” interposed Winifred, gravely. “I release you from your
promise. A carpenter's daughter is no fit match for a peer of
France.”
“If my dignity must be purchased by the loss of you, I renounce it,”
cried Thames. “You will not make it valueless in my eyes,” he added,
catching her in his arms, and pressing her to his breast.
“Be it as you please,” replied Winifred. “My lips would belie my
heart were I to refuse you.”
“And now, father, your blessing--your consent!” cried Thames.
“You have both,” replied Wood, fervently. “I am too much
honoured--too happy in the union. Oh! that I should live to be
father-in-law to a peer of France! What would my poor wife say to
it, if she could come to life again? Oh, Thames!--my lord marquis, I
mean--you have made me the happiest--the proudest of mankind.”
Not many days after this event, on a bright October morning, the
bells rang a merry peal from the old gray tower of Willesden church.
All the village was assembled in the churchyard. Young and old were
dressed in their gayest apparel; and it was evident from the smiles
that lighted up every countenance, from the roguish looks of the
younger swains, and the demure expression of several pretty
rustic maidens, that a ceremony, which never fails to interest all
classes,--a wedding,--was about to take place.
At the gate opening upon the road leading to Dollis Hill were
stationed William Morgan and John Dump. Presently, two carriages
dashed down the hill, and drew up before it. From the first of
these alighted Thames, or, as he must now be styled, the Marquis de
Chatillon. From the second descended Mr. Wood--and after him came his
daughter.
The sun never shone upon a lovelier couple than now approached the
altar. The church was crowded to excess by the numbers eager to
witness the ceremony; and as soon as it was over the wedded pair were
followed to the carriage, and the loudest benedictions uttered for
their happiness.
In spite of the tumultuous joy which agitated him, the bridegroom
could not prevent the intrusion of some saddening thoughts, as
he reflected upon the melancholy scene which he had so recently
witnessed in the same place.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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