CHAPTER XXXIII
A WEDDING
I rowed myself aboard that evening in a strange condition ofexultation, for I had now no doubt--no doubt at all--that the chargeswere true, and that a conspiracy of the most deadly kind was not onlydiscovered, but also checked. And I could not but admire the craft andsubtlety displayed by the favourite of the Muses in devising a plan bywhich it was made possible for the conspirators to come all togetherwithout the least suspicion to the town of Lynn. How else could theycome? For reasons political? But Lynn is a borough in the hands of SirRobert Walpole, of Houghton. Nobody could stand against him, nor couldany one in Lord Fylingdale's rank visit the town in its ordinarycondition without receiving an invitation to Houghton if Sir Robertwas there. Unless, indeed, there were reasons why he should not bevisited or received. What Sam had not expected was, without doubt, thewonderful success of his deception; the eagerness with which thecountry round accepted his inventions; the readiness with which theydrank those innocent waters; the miraculous cures effected; and thetransformation of the venerable old port and trading town into a hauntand resort of fashion and the pursuit of pleasure.
Thinking of all these things, and in blissful anticipation of thediscomfiture of all the conspirators, there was an important thingthat I quite forgot, namely, to send Molly's letter to her suitor inhis room at the "Crown." I carried the letter in my pocket. Iundressed and lay down in my bunk. I slept with a light heart,dreaming only of things pleasant, until the morning, when the earlieststroke of the hammer from the yard and the quay woke me up. It wasthen half-past five. I sat up. I rubbed my eyes. I then suddenlyremembered that the letter was in my pocket still.
It was, I say, half-past five. The engagement was for six o'clock. Imight have to run, yet, to stop Lord Fylingdale.
It does not take long to dress. You may imagine that I did not spendtime in powdering my hair. In a quarter of an hour I was over the sideof the ship and in my dingey.
By the clock on the Common Stathe it was five minutes to six when Ilanded and made her fast. I climbed the stairs, and ran as fast as mylegs could carry me to the "Crown Inn." As I reached the door theclock struck six. Was Lord Fylingdale in his room? I was too late. Hehad left the house some ten minutes before, and had been carried inhis chair across the market-place.
I followed. It was already five minutes past the hour. I should findhim in the church, chafing at the delay. I should give him the letterand retire.
The market-place was filled with the market people and with thetownspeople who came to buy. I pushed across, stepping over a basket,and jostled by a woman with poultry and vegetables. It was, however,seven or eight minutes past six when I arrived at the church; thedoors of the south porch were open. Within I heard the sound ofvoices--or, at least, of one voice. I looked in.
Heavens! What had happened? Not only was I late with my letter,but--but--could I believe my eyes? Molly herself stood before thealtar; facing her was Lord Fylingdale, who held her hand. Within therails stood the Reverend Benjamin Purdon; beside him, the clerk, tomake the responses. And the minister, when I arrived, was actuallysaying the words which the bridegroom repeats after the minister,completing in effect the marriage ceremony.
"I, Ludovick, take thee, Mary, to my wedded wife ..." and so onaccording to the form prescribed. And again, the words beginning--
"With this ring I thee wed...."
I stood and listened, lost in wonder.
Then came the prayer prescribed. After which the clergyman joinedtheir hands together, saying:--
"Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder."
I heard no more. I sat down on the nearest bench. What was the meaningof this sudden change? Remember that I had left Molly only a few hoursbefore this, fully resolved that she would demand an inquiry into thestatements and charges made in the two letters; resolved that shewould not keep that engagement; her admiration for the proud, brave,noble creature, her lover, turned into loathing.
And now--now, in the early morning, with her letter in my pocketstating her change of purpose--I found her at the altar, and actuallymarried.
"Whom God hath joined together, let no man put asunder."
What if the man Purdon was all that he was described? The priestlyoffice confers rights and powers which are independent of the man whoholds that office. Whatever his private wickedness, Purdon was aclergyman, and therefore he could marry people.
Molly stood before the altar as had been arranged; she wore a blacksilk domino; she had on a pink silk cloak with a hood drawn over herhead, so that she was quite covered up and concealed. But I knew herby her stature, which was taller than the common, and by the dress,which had been agreed upon.
Then the bridegroom offered his hand and led the bride into thevestry. They were to sign the marriage register.
And here I rose and slunk away. I say that I slunk away. If you likeit better, I crawled away, for I was sick at heart. The thing which Imost dreaded, the marriage of our girl to a rake and a gamester, hadbeen actually accomplished. Misery and ruin; misery and ruin; miseryand ruin would be her lot. And in my pocket was her letter asking forexplanations--and withdrawing her promise for the morrow! Could onebelieve one's senses?
I crawled away, ashamed for the first time in my life of the girl Iloved. Women, I said to myself, are poor, weak creatures. They believeeverything; Lord Fylingdale must have been with her early. He had butto deny the whole; she accepted the denial; despite her resolution shewalked with him to the church as the lamb goes to the shambles. Oh,Molly! Molly! Who would have believed it of you?
I left the church and went away. I thought of going to the captain; oftelling my father; of telling the vicar; but it seemed like treachery,and I refrained. Instead, I walked back to the quay, and paddled tothe ship, where presently the barges came alongside and the day's workbegan. Fortunate it is for a man that at moments of great unhappinesshis work has to be done and he is desirous to put aside his sorrow andto think upon his duty. But, alas! Poor Molly! Who could have believedit possible?
Well, you see, I did not follow this wedding to an end. Had I goneinto the vestry I should have been witness of something veryunexpected. Why, had not the Lady Anastasia--who, I now understand,was tortured by jealousy--promised that "something should happen"?
* * * * *
The clergyman had the registers lying on the table open. He took a penand filled in the forms. He then offered the pen to the bride.
"My lady," he said. "I must ask your ladyship to sign the register. Induplicate, if you please."
The bride sat down, and in a large bold hand wrote her name, "MaryMiller."
Then the bridegroom took the pen and signed, "Fylingdale."
The clergyman sprinkled the pounce box over the names and shut up thebooks, which he gave to the clerk. This officer took the books andlocked them in the great trunk which held the papers and books of thechurch, putting the key in his pocket.
"And now," said Mr. Purdon, "let me congratulate my noble patron andthe newly made countess on this auspicious event. I have brought withme a bottle of the finest port the 'Crown' possesses, and I venture todrink health, happiness, and prosperity." So saying he produced abottle and glasses. The bride without saying a word inclined her headto the bridegroom and drank off her glass. Lord Fylingdale, wholooked, if one may say so of a bridegroom, peevish and ill at ease,raised his glass. "To your happiness, Molly!" he said.
So, all was finished. "You are going home, Molly?" he asked. "For thepresent. That is to say, for a day or two it will be best. I shallclaim you very soon. There is no one but ourselves in the vestry," forthe clerk, having locked the box and accepted the guinea bestowed uponhim by the bridegroom, was now tramping down the church and throughthe porch. No one but themselves was in the vestry or the church. "Youmay, therefore, take off your domino."
"As your lordship pleases." Lord Fylingdale started. Whose voice wasthat? "As you order, I obey." So the bride
removed her domino andthrew back the hood.
The bridegroom started. "What is this?" he cried furious, with certainwords which were out of place in a church.
"WHAT IS THIS?" HE CRIED FURIOUS, WITH CERTAIN WORDSWHICH WERE OUT OF PLACE IN A CHURCH.]
"Lady Anastasia!" cried Mr. Purdon. "Good Lord! Then we are allundone!"
"What does it mean? Tell me, she devil--what does it mean? Where isMolly? But this is play acting. This is not a marriage."
"I fear, my lord," said the parson, "that it is a marriage. Theregisters are in the strong box. They cannot be altered."
"Go after the clerk, man. Order him to give up the keys. Tear thepages out of the registers."
"I cannot," said Mr. Purdon. "I dare not. The man is a witness of thismarriage; he has seen the entry in the register. I dare not alter themor destroy a single page. I have done a great deal for your lordship,but this thing I cannot do. It is a marriage, I say. You are marriedto the Lady Anastasia here."
"Talk! talk! Go after the man. Bring back the man. Tear the keys fromhim. Silence the man! Buy his silence! Buy--I will murder him, if Imust, in order to stop his tongue."
"Your lordship forgets your bride--your happy, smiling, innocentbride!"
He cursed her. He raised his hand as if to strike her down, butforbore.
"I told you," she continued, "that in everything I was at yourservice--except in one thing. Tear the registers; murder the clerk;but the bride will be left. And if you murder her as well you will beno nearer the possession of the lovely Molly."
The bridegroom sank into a chair. He was terrible to look at, for hiswrath and disappointment deprived him of the power of speech. Wherewas now the cold and haughty front? It was gone. He sat in the chair,upright, his face purple, his eyes starting from his head as one whohath some kind of fit.
The clergyman, still in his white surplice, looked on and trembled,for his old pupil was in a murderous frame of mind. There was noknowing whom he might murder. Besides, he had before this divined thetrue meaning of the visit to Lynn; and he foresaw ruin to himself aswell as his patron.
Lord Fylingdale turned upon him suddenly and cursed him for a fool, anass, a villain, a traitor. "You are in the plot," he said. "You knewall along. You have been suborned."
"My lord--my lord--have patience. What could I know? I was bidden tobe here at six to marry you. I supposed that the bride was the fairMiss Molly. I could not tell; I knew nothing. The lady was in adomino. It is irregular to be married in a domino. But your lordshipwished it. What could I do?"
"Send for the key, then, and destroy the registers."
"Alas! my lord, it is now, you may be sure, all over the town that youhave been married, and to Miss Molly."
"Where is Molly? Where is Molly, then? Why did she keep away?"
The bride looked on with her mocking smile of triumph. "You may murderme," she said, "but you will not undo the marriage. I have beenmarried, it is true, under a false name; but I am married none theless."
"You have brought ruin upon us all," her husband said. "Ruin--headlongruin. I am at my last guinea. I can raise no more money--I have nomore credit. You, yourself, are as much discredited."
"If you are ruined," the lady replied, "you are rightly punished. Howmany vows have you made to me? How many lies have you invented to keepme quiet?"
"With submission, my lord," Mr. Purdon stammered, for terror andbewilderment held him, "this is a bad morning's work. Let me advisethat before the town is awake we leave the church and talk over thebusiness in her ladyship's rooms, or elsewhere. We must be private. Tocurse and to swear helps nothing; nor does it help to talk of ajealous revenge. Let us go."
It was with a tottering step, as if he was smitten with palsy, thatthe bridegroom walked down the aisle. The bride put up her domino, andthrew her hood over her head, and so with the parson, in silence,walked away from the church to her lodging, leaving the bridegroom tocome by himself.
As yet the market people had not heard the news.
But the news spread. The clerk told his wife. "I come from thechurch," he said. "I have witnessed the marriage of MissMolly--Captain Crowle's Molly--with the noble lord who wears the starand looks so grand--a private wedding it was. I know not why. Theparson was the Reverend Mr. Purdon, he who reads the morning prayersand preaches on Sunday."
Then the clerk's wife, slipping on her apron--for such folk find theshelter of the apron for their hands necessary in conversation--ranround to the pump room. No one was there as yet, but the two dippers.To them she communicated the news.
Then she went on to the market and told all the people of the town whowere chaffering there.
At seven o'clock the captain, walking in his garden, was surprised bythe arrival of the horns, who stood before the house and performed anoble flourish. "What the devil is that for?" said the captain. Thenthere arrived the butchers, with their marrowbones and cleavers, andbegan to make their music with zeal. The captain went out to them. Upwent their hats.
"Huzza for Miss Molly and her husband."
"Her husband? What do you mean?"
"Her husband--his lordship--married this morning."
"What?" The captain stared in amazement. Then he rushed into thehouse. Molly was in the kitchen. "What is this?" he asked. "Thebutchers are here and the horns, and they swear you were married thismorning, Molly?"
"Why, captain, I have not been outside the door. I am not married, Iassure you, and I begin to think, now, that I never shall be married."
The captain went out and dismissed the musicians. But the thingtroubled him, and he was already sick at heart on account of the lastnight's discourse and its discoveries.
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