Clergy -- Fiction; English fiction; Lincolnshire (England) -- Fiction
"I will, mother," he exclaimed, proudly; and he glanced round the
church, to see it crowded, even the aisles being densely packed, a low,
murmuring buzz arising, which was checked, though, as the vicar, in his
white surplice, moved from behind the great tomb, looking white almost
as the linen he wore, and took his place inside the low wooden altar
rails, which Jacky Budd bustled officiously to close, giving his lips a
smack as if he scented the feasting that generally followed this
operation, and hastened to replace the hassocks in front of the little
gates.
Eve's eyes rested upon the vicar's for a moment as she was led by some
one, she could not tell whom, and told to stand in a particular
position: there was a strange whirring sound in her head, and the place
was alternately swimming round her, and then coming to a dead stand, and
beginning to recede, till the whole of the chancel seemed to be
reproduced with photographic minuteness far away, as if seen through the
wrong end of a telescope.
Then the mutterings of the crowd in the church reached her; Mrs Glaire
whispered, "Be strong for my sake," and Richard Glaire, dimly seen,
stood beside her; and before her, calm and motionless, divided from her
by the quaint old wooden barrier, soon to be divided from her by bars
that were a thousand times as strong, stood the man that she knew and
owned now, with a kind of desperation, that she loved.
It was a blasphemy, she told herself, to stand there as she did, ready
to lie before her Maker; but as she mentally said this she prayed that
her sin might be forgiven, and her act looked upon as a sacrifice to
save her who had been to her as a mother, and Richard Glaire from a
downward career; and as this prayer was repeated she heard the deep, sad
voice of the vicar speaking.
The words came slowly, and the utterance grew deeper as, hardly able to
bear the bitter agony he experienced, Murray Selwood addressed the first
solemn words of the service to those before him, going on to "I require
and charge you both," while the silence in the church was almost
painful.
Then turning to Richard, and with his voice rising, he asked the
question--
"Wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife, to live together after
God's ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou love her, (a
pause) comfort her, (another pause) honour, and keep her in sickness and
in health; and forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her, (a long and
painful pause, during which Richard Glaire winced as he tried to meet
the questioning eyes fixed on his, and failed) so long as ye both shall
live?"
"I will," answered Richard, once more trying to meet the eyes that were
fixed upon him in solemn question, and failing miserably.
Those who watched the service from close by, remembered afterwards that
the vicar's voice became low and trembling as, turning to Eve, he asked
her--
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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