f the old
parlours--the south parlour, as it was called--into the lane which led to
the village. Christine came out this way, and after following the lane
for a short distance entered upon a path within a belt of plantation, by
which the church could be reached privately. She even avoided the
churchyard gate, walking along to a place where the turf without the low
wall rose into a mound, enabling her to mount upon the coping and spring
down inside. She crossed the wet graves, and so glided round to the
door. He was there, with his bag in his hand. He kissed her with a sort
of surprise, as if he had expected that at the last moment her heart
would fail her.

Though it had not failed her, there was, nevertheless, no great ardour in
Christine's bearing--merely the momentum of an antecedent impulse. They
went up the aisle together, the bottle-green glass of the old lead
quarries admitting but little light at that hour, and under such an
atmosphere. They stood by the altar-rail in silence, Christine's skirt
visibly quivering at each beat of her heart.

Presently a quick step ground upon the gravel, and Mr. Bealand came round
by the front. He was a quiet bachelor, courteous towards Christine, and
not at first recognizing in Nicholas a neighbouring yeoman (for he lived
aloofly in the next parish), advanced to her without revealing any
surprise at her unusual request. But in truth he was surprised, the
keen interest taken by many country young women at the present day in
church decoration and festivals being then unknown.

'Good morning,' he said; and repeated the same words to Nicholas more
mechanically.

'Good morning,' she replied gravely. 'Mr. Bealand, I have a serious
reason for asking you to meet me--us, I may say. We wish you to marry
us.'

The rector's gaze hardened to fixity, rather between than upon either of
them, and he neither moved nor replied for some time.

'Ah!' he said at last.

'And we are quite ready.'

'I had no idea--'

'It has been kept rather private,' she said calmly.

'Where are your witnesses?'

'They are outside in the meadow, sir. I can call them in a moment,' said
Nicholas.

'Oh--I see it is--Mr. Nicholas Long,' said Mr. Bealand, and turning again
to Christine, 'Does your father know of this?'

'Is it necessary that I should answer that question, Mr. Bealand?'

'I am afraid it is--highly necessary.'

Christine began to look concerned.

'Where is the licence?' the