The Duke had begun, “Jane!” and Winton had cried out, echoing his friend, to the Rector to “go on, go on,” when this sound suddenly fell upon them all, ringing slowly, steadily, like a doom bell. Something in the sound stilled every one, even the angry and unhappy young man, who saw his marriage broken and his hopes made an end of in a moment. Lady Germaine took her hand away from Jane’s waist and sank down upon the vacant bench and burst out into sobbing,--she who felt that she must laugh five minutes before; and Mrs Marston cried in her pew, and the two poor women looked on with so much sympathy. The Duke’s hand dropped from his daughter’s arm. The only thing that did not alter was the attitude of the two chief figures. They stood with clasped hands before the altar-rails. Even now Lady Jane only half understood what had happened. It began to dawn upon her as she saw the closed book, and felt the silence and the sound of the clock. She turned round to Winton with a questioning look, then smiled and gave a little, the slightest, pressure of the hand she held. In this way they stood while the clock struck, no one saying a word. Then there arose several voices together. “I thank heaven I arrived in time!” the Duke exclaimed. “Jane, let there be no further scene, but leave off this silly pantomime, and come home at once with me.” “Your bishop shall hear of this, sir!” said Lord Germaine, shaking his fist, in spite of himself, at the Rector. Winton, on his side, was too sick at heart to find any words. He said, “It is over,” with a voice of anguish; then added, “but we are pledged to each other--pledged all the same.” “Let go my daughter, sir!” cried the Duke. “We are pledged to each other,” Winton repeated. He took the ring out of his pocket, where it lay ready, and put it on her finger, trembling. “She is my wife,” he said, half turning round, appealing to the group. Lady Jane withdrew her right hand, putting it within his arm. She held up that which had the ring upon it, and put her lips to it. “I don’t know what this means,” she said, tremulous and yet clear, “but I am his wife.” “Let go my daughter, sir!” cried the Duke. They were all speaking together. The pair who were not wedded turned round arm in arm as they might have done had the ceremony been completed. Once more the Duke caught hold of his daughter roughly. “Jane, leave this man! I command you to leave him! Come home at once!” he cried. “Mr Winton, if you have any sense of honour, you will give her up at once. My God! will you compromise my daughter and pretend to love her? Jane, will you make your family a laughing-stock? Come, come! You will cover us with shame. You will kill your mother.” He condescended to plead with her, so intense was his feeling. “Jane, for the love of heaven----”