“I don’t know, Sir, if it’s my lady or Miss Lucy. I was to have took it; I wasn’t to have seen you; but now as I have seen you--oh, Master Arthur, Master Arthur, how could you, Sir?” cried Davies, with streaming eyes and uplifted hands. He turned away with rage in his heart, clenching his hand involuntarily; but at that moment Mrs. Bates interfered, and changed the current of Arthur’s feelings. “You are a most impertinent person,” said Mrs. Bates. “How dare you speak to my son-in-law so? And in church, too! Though you are only a servant, you ought to know better.” “Davies!” cried Arthur, rushing back and taking the old woman’s hands, “go after Lucy--quick! She is alone. But first say, ‘God bless you!’ dear old Davies. There never was a time that you did not say ‘God bless you’ before!” “And I will say it!” cried the old woman. “I will say it, never mind who hears. Oh, Master Arthur, dear, God bless you! But you’ve broke my lady’s heart, and Miss Lucy’s too.” “Run after her--go, Davies, go! my sister is alone,” cried Arthur, giving her such a grasp of his young hands, and turning her round towards the door with such impetuosity, that poor old Davies all but tripped upon the matting in the aisle. He thrust the letter into his pocket, and went back to Nancy, who stood at the vestry door, looking round for him, with nothing but disdain in her face, and little but dismay in her heart. “If he leaves me like this now, what will he do after?” Nancy was saying to herself; and though she loved him dearly, and though it was a great marriage for Nancy Bates, her heart quailed for the moment at the difficulties before her, and she repented of the step she had just taken. She stood up against the vestry-door, defying her bridegroom and all his belongings, as it seemed, with dilated nostrils and curled lips, and insolent gaze. But in her heart, what a darkness of despair was quivering about poor Nancy! What had she done? Plunged into a new world, which was all against her, which was superior to her, in which she had nothing but Arthur, who already, ten minutes after he had pledged her his faith, had deserted her--for _them_! Oh, how much better to have stayed by the old mother, the shabby father who loved her! Her whole inner being was quivering with this pang of sudden desolation and enlightenment. But with what a look of disdain and defiance she regarded her bridegroom as he came back to her! no softening in her eyes, however much there might be in her heart. “Forgive me, Nancy,” he said, gently. “You have a right to be vexed; but don’t turn from me, my darling, as if I were unworthy a look.” “It is you who think me unworthy a look!” she cried, “you and your fine-lady sister, and all your grand friends. Oh, I am sure you would much rather go to them. If they had only come yesterday instead of to-day!”