ir Willmott conducted Lady Frances, who hardly condescended to touch
the hand he presented to her. As they passed an open court, leading to
the little chapel, Sir Robert stopped abruptly, and addressing his
daughter, said,--

"But I have not blessed you yet; you would not like to die without my
blessing."

"Die, my father!" repeated Constance.

"I pray your pardon, child," he replied, in a half muttering, half
speaking voice--"I was thinking of your mother: but now I quite remember
me, this is a bridal," and he hurried her forward to the altar where the
clergyman stood ready to receive them.

"Sir Willmott Burrell," said Constantia to the knight, as he placed
himself at her side, "my father is ill, and I cannot think upon what his
malady may be with any thing like calmness; if what I dread is true, you
will not force me from him."

"Let the ceremony proceed, and, villain as I know you think me, I will
not oppose any plan you may form for him," was Burrell's reply. Lady
Frances stood close beside her friend; and Barbara, in her white robes
and simple beauty, headed the group of servants who crowded round the
steps.

The clergyman commenced the service according to the form of the
Established Church, and concluded the opening address without any
interruption. He then proceeded to the solemn and beautiful appeal made
as to the liberty of those who present themselves at the altar.

"I require and charge you both, (as ye will answer at the
dreadful day of judgment, when the secrets of all hearts shall be
disclosed,) that if either of you know any impediment why ye may
not lawfully be joined together in matrimony, ye do now confess
it?"

At this point Sir Robert Cecil, his enfeebled mind still more relaxed
after the strong effort made at self-possession, and weakened and heated
by the wine he had taken, exclaimed,--

"Those two joined together in matrimony! It is impossible--she has not
on a wedding-garment! What does she here?" Then looking round, he left
his daughter's side, and seizing Barbara's hand, dragged her to the
altar, saying, "This must be our bride--our lady bride--no one would wed
in sables."

It is impossible to describe the consternation which this circumstance
occasioned; but the baronet had hardly uttered the words, when the
window that Barbara had taken so much pains in adorning, was darkened by
a figure springing into and standing on the open casement, and the
shrill voice of t