h resembled
that of the Plantagenet lady which once she had copied from the brass.
Perhaps, being dissatisfied with her former effort, she determined to
recap it on a more splendid scale, or perhaps it was a chance. At any
rate, the veil raised in two points from her head, fell down like that
of the nameless lady, while from her elbows long narrow sleeves hung
almost to the ground. Beautiful Isobel never was, but in this garb,
with happiness shining in her eyes, her tall, well-made form looked
imposing and even stately, an effect that was heightened by her
deliberate and dignified movements. The great church was crowded, for
the news of this wedding had spread far and wide, and its romantic
character attracted people both from the neighbouring villages and the
little town.

Set in the splendid surroundings of the old Abbey, through the painted
windows of which gleamed the winter sun, Godfrey in his glittering
Indian uniform and orders, and his bride in her quaint, rich dress,
made a striking pair at the altar rail. Indeed it is doubtful whether
since hundreds of years ago the old Crusader and his fair lady, whose
ashes were beneath their feet, stood where they stood for this same
purpose of marriage, clad in coat of mail and gleaming silk, a
nobler-looking couple had been wed in that ancient fane.

Oddly enough, with the strange inconsequence of the human mind,
especially in moments of suppressed excitement, it was of this nameless
lady and her lord that Godfrey kept thinking throughout the service,
once more wondering who they were and what was their story. He
remembered too how the graves of that unknown pair had been connected
with his fortunes and those of Isobel. Here it was that they plighted
the troth which now they were about to fulfil. Here it was that he had
bidden her farewell before he went to Switzerland. He could see her now
as she was then, tall and slender in her white robe, and the red ray of
sunshine gleaming like a splash of blood upon her breast. He glanced at
her by his side as she turned towards him, and behold! there it shone
again, splendid yet ominous.

He shivered a little at the sight of it--he knew not why--and was glad
when a dense black snow-cloud hid the face of the sun and killed it.

It was over at last, and they were man and wife.

"Do these words and vows and ceremonies make any difference to you?"
she whispered as they walked side by side down the church, the observed
of all obs