t of them all, the ancient
church behind them grew silent as the dead within its graves.

The Towers reached, the new-wed pair, with Father Roger and Emlyn, sat
down to the best meal that could be prepared for them at such short
notice; a very curious wedding feast. Still, though the company was so
small it did not lack for heartiness, since the old clergyman proposed
their health in a speech full of Latin words which they did not
understand, and every member of the household who had assembled to hear
him drank to it in cups of wine. This done, the beautiful bride, now
blushing and now pale, was led away to the best chamber, which had been
hastily prepared for her. But Emlyn remained behind a while, for she had
words to speak.

"Sir Christopher," she said, "you are fast wed to the sweetest lady that
ever sun or moon shone on, and in that may hold yourself a lucky man.
Yet such deep joys seldom come without their pain, and I think that this
is near at hand. There are those who will envy you your fortune, Sir
Christopher."

"Yet they cannot change it, Emlyn," he answered anxiously. "The knot
that was tied to-night may not be unloosed."

"Never," broke in Father Roger. "Though the suddenness and the
circumstances of it may be unusual, this marriage is a sacrament
celebrated in the face of the world with the full consent of both
parties and of the Holy Church. Moreover, before the dawn I'll send the
record of it to the bishop's registry and elsewhere, that it may not be
questioned in days to come, giving copies of the same to you and your
lady's foster-mother, who is her nearest friend at hand."

"It may not be loosed on earth or in heaven," replied Emlyn solemnly,
"yet perchance the sword can cut it. Sir Christopher, I think that we
should all do well to travel as soon as may be."

"Not to-night, surely, Nurse!" he exclaimed.

"No, not to-night," she answered, with a faint smile. "Your wife has had
a weary day, and could not. Moreover, preparation must be made which is
impossible at this hour. But to-morrow, if the roads are open to you,
I think we should start for London, where she may make complaint of her
father's slaying and claim her heritage and the protection of the law."

"That is good counsel," said the vicar, and Christopher, with whom words
seemed to be few, nodded his head.

"Meanwhile," went on Emlyn, "you have six men in this house and others
round it. Send out a messenger and summon them all here a