“And thanks, no doubt, to your own loyal courage. God bless you, sir, and God save the King. The lady you have chosen is worthy of you, as you of her. In God’s shattered temple, I will marry you, if its walls remain.” When the colonel came in with Frances, the girl turned a frightened look upon the group as she saw who stood there. “Oh,” she cried impulsively, “I told you not to come.” “’Tis you who are to obey, not he,” said Cromwell harshly. “He has come for you. Will you marry him?” The girl allowed her eyes to seek the floor, and did not answer him. Even in the candle-light her cheeks burned rosy red. “Come, come,” cried Cromwell impatiently, “yes, or no, wench.” “I will not have her so addressed by any,” spoke up Armstrong, stoutly stepping forward; but the girl flashed a glance from her dark eyes on the commander. “Yes,” she said, with decision, then directed her look on her lover, and so to the floor again. “Are there candles in the chapel?” “Yes, Excellency,” replied the colonel. “Bring some of the officers,--I think witnesses are needed,--and your regimental book, if there is signing to be done. ’Twill hold them as fast as the parish register, I warrant.” Then to the clergyman, “Follow me, sir, and the rest of you.” With that Cromwell strode out and led the way to the chapel, so hastily converted from a storehouse to its former purpose. The old divine took his place with the young people before him, the group of officers in the dimness near the door. Cromwell, however, stood near the girl. “Slip off one of your rings and give it to this pastor,” he whispered to her. “We are short of such gear here, and I doubt if your man ever thought of it.” Frances, without a word, selected from the number on her fingers that which had been her mother’s wedding-ring, and handed it to the clergyman. “_Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this congregation, to join together this Man and this Woman in holy Matrimony; which is an honourable estate, instituted of God in the time of man’s innocency, signifying unto us the mystical union that is betwixt Christ and his Church; which holy estate Christ adorned and beautified with his presence, and first miracle that he wrought in Cana of Galilee_.” As the sonorous words resounded in the ancient chapel, the old man straightened himself, the former anger in his face gave way to a benignant expression, and his attitude took on all the grave dignity of his calling. He went on with the service until he came to the words: “_Who giveth this woman to be married to this man?_” Cromwell stepped forward and said brusquely, “I do.”