she submitted to the act, were expressed in a manner that made her
appear, as that which she actually was, the lovely but pitiable
victim of ambition. Alley Mahon's grief was loud; Lady Gourlay, Mrs.
Mainwaring, Lady Emily, all were in tears.

"I am proud to see this," said Sir Thomas, bowing, as if he were bound
to thank them, and attempting, with his usual tact, to turn their very
sympathy into a hollow and untruthful compliment; "I am proud to see
this manifestation of strong attachment to my daughter; it is a proof of
how she is loved."

Lucy had not once opened her lips. She had not strength to do so; her
very voice had abandoned her.

Two or three persons besides the baronet and the bridegroom felt a
deep interest in what was going forward, or about to go forward. Thomas
Gourlay now absolutely hated her; so did his mother; so did his uncle,
Thomas Corbet. Each and all of them felt anxious to have her married,
in order that she might be out of Tom's way, and that he might enjoy a
wider sphere of action. Old Anthony Corbet stood looking on, with his
thin lips compressed closely together, his keen eyes riveted on the
baronet, and an expression legible on every trace of his countenance,
such as might well have constituted him some fearful incarnation of
hatred and vengeance. Lady Gourlay was so completely engrossed by Lucy
that she did not notice Fenton, and the latter, from his position, could
see nothing of either the bride or the baronet, but their backs.

Lord Dunroe felt that his best course was to follow the advice of Sir
Thomas, which was, not to avail himself of his position with Lucy,
but to observe a respectful manner, and to avoid entering into any
conversation whatsoever with her, at least until after the ceremony
should be performed. He consequently kept his distance, with the
exception of receiving her passive hand, as we have shown, and
maintained a low and subdued conversation with Mr. Roberts. The only
person likely to interrupt the solemn feeling which prevailed was old
Sam, who had his handkerchief several times alternately to his nose and
eyes, and who looked about him with an indignant expression, that seemed
to say, "There's something wrong here--some one ought to speak; I wish
my boy would step forward. This, surely, is not the heart of man."

At length the baronet approached Lucy, and seemed, by his action, as
well as his words, to ask her consent to something. Lucy looked at him,
but nei