SIXTH SCENE.
The Church.
The time is morning; the date is early in the month of November. Theplace is a church, in a poor and populous parish in the undiscoveredregions of London, eastward of the Tower, and hard by the river-side.
A marriage procession of five approaches the altar The bridegroomis pale, and the bride is frightened. The bride's friend (aresolute-looking little lady) encourages her in whispers. The tworespectable persons, apparently man and wife, who complete theprocession, seem to be not quite clear as to the position which theyoccupy at the ceremony. The beadle, as he marshals them before thealtar, sees something under the surface in this wedding-party. Marriagesin the lower ranks of life are the only marriages celebrated here. Isthis a runaway match? The beadle anticipates something out of the commonin the shape of a fee.
The clergyman (the junior curate) appears from the vestry in his robes.The clerk takes his place. The clergyman's eye rests with a suddeninterest and curiosity on the bride and bridegroom, and on the bride'sfriend; notices the absence of elderly relatives; remarks, in thetwo ladies especially, evidences of refinement and breeding entirelyunparalleled in his professional experience of brides and brides'friends standing before the altar of that church; questions, silentlyand quickly, the eye of the clerk, occupied also in observing thestrangers with interest "Jenkinson" (the clergyman's look asks), "isthis all right?" "Sir" (the clerk's look answers), "a marriage by banns;all the formalities have been observed." The clergyman opens his book.The formalities have been observed; his duty lies plainly before him.Attention, Launcelot! Courage, Natalie! The service begins.
Launce casts a last furtive look round the church. Will Sir JosephGraybrooke start up and stop it from one of the empty pews? Is RichardTurlington lurking in the organ-loft, and only waiting till the words ofthe service appeal to him to prohibit the marriage, or "else hereafterforever to hold his peace?" No. The clergyman proceeds steadily,and nothing happens. Natalie's charming face grows paler and paler,Natalie's heart throbs faster and faster, as the time comes nearer forreading the words which unite them for life. Lady Winwood herself feelsan unaccustomed fluttering in the region of the bosom. Her ladyship'sthoughts revert, not altogether pleasantly, to her own marriage: "Ahme! what was I thinking of when I was in this position? Of the bride'sbeautiful dress, and of Lady Winwood's coming presentation at court!"
The service advances to the words in which they plight their troth.Launce has put the ring on her finger. Launce has repeated the wordsafter the clergyman. Launce has married her! Done! Come what may of it,done!
The service ends. Bridegroom, bride, and witnesses go into the vestryto sign the book. The signing, like the service, is serious. No triflingwith the truth is possible here. When it comes to Lady Winwood's turn,Lady Winwood must write her name. She does it, but without her usualgrace and decision. She drops her handkerchief. The clerk picks it upfor her, and notices that a coronet is embroidered in one corner.
The fees are paid. They leave the vestry. Other couples, when it isover, are talkative and happy. These two are more silent and moreembarrassed than ever. Stranger still, while other couples go off withrelatives and friends, all socially united in honor of the occasion,these two and their friends part at the church door. The respectable manand his wife go their way on foot. The little lady with the coronet onher handkerchief puts the bride into a cab, gets in herself, and directsthe driver to close the door, while the bridegroom is standing on thechurch steps! The bridegroom's face is clouded, as well it may be. Heputs his head in at the window of the cab; he possesses himself of thebride's hand; he speaks in a whisper; he is apparently not to be shakenoff. The little lady exerts her authority, separates the clasped hands,pushes the bridegroom away, and cries peremptorily to the driver to goon. The cab starts; the deserted husband drifts desolately anyhow downthe street. The clerk, who has seen it all, goes back to the vestry andreports what has happened.
The rector (with his wife on his arm) has just dropped into the vestryon business in passing. He and the curate are talking about the strangemarriage. The rector, gravely bent on ascertaining that no blame restswith the church, interrogates, and is satisfied. The rector's wife isnot so easy to deal with. She has looked at the signatures in the book.One of the names is familiar to her. She cross-examines the clerk assoon as her husband is done with him. When she hears of the coronet onthe handkerchief she points to the signature of "Louisa Winwood," andsays to the rector, "I know who it is! Lord Winwood's second wife. Iwent to school with his lordship's daughters by his first marriage. Weoccasionally meet at the Sacred Concerts (on the 'Ladies' Committee');I shall find an opportunity of speaking to them. One moment, Mr.Jenkinson, I will write down the names before you put away the book.'Launcelot Linzie,' 'Natalie Graybrooke.' Very pretty names; quiteromantic. I do delight in a romance. Good-morning."
She gives the curate a parting smile, and the clerk a parting nod, andsails out of the vestry. Natalie, silently returning in Lady Winwood'scompany to Muswell Hill; and Launce, cursing the law of Abduction as heroams the streets--little think that the ground is already mined undertheir feet. Richard Turlington may hear of it now, or may hear ofit later. The discovery of the marriage depends entirely on a chancemeeting between the lord's daughters and the rector's wife.