ering to the
blooming bride.

At length the eventful week arrived in which the wedding was to take
place; and from early on the Monday morning--the wedding was fixed for
Wednesday--all the young girls of the village seemed to have become
possessed with the idea that our garden was public property, and passed
in and out, helping themselves with the utmost _sang-froid_ to what few
early spring flowers there were, and as much greenery as they could
carry--no one saying them nay. And I could not help noticing, as a
somewhat unusual circumstance, that whenever I passed the noble old
church its doors were sure to be open, and somebody passing in or out.

Tuesday evening came, and with it came the impatient bridegroom. The
rectory was by that time turned upside-down, inside-out, and goodness
knows what else in the shape of confusion; so that, in sheer
desperation, Sir Peregrine and I were at last driven to betake ourselves
and poor Annesley--who had almost to be carried off by force, he having
had no opportunity for anything more than a hasty word or two with
Florrie--to the snug little inn where the skipper was to find quarters
that night. My father looked longingly after us, as we retreated
through the front door, but, poor man, he was a prisoner with hard
labour that night, and there was no escape for him.

By daybreak next morning the whole house was astir, and, oh! the babel
of sound and confusion that reigned therein. I was to act the part of
best man, and, as far as I could understand it, my principal duty seemed
to be to fix myself to the groom like a sucking-fish, and never allow
him to have a moment to himself, or the slightest particle of peace. He
was more excited than I had ever before seen him, and between us we made
such a flusteration in that otherwise quiet little hostelry as I imagine
its inmates will never forget. It was arranged that we should breakfast
together and afterwards go in the same carriage--a distance of two or
three cable's lengths at most--to church; and I have no reason to doubt
that we carried out the arrangement; but neither of us is to this day
prepared to swear, from our own recollection, that we did so.

At length, however, we found ourselves somehow walking up the centre
aisle of the church, without well knowing how we got there. The grand
old fane was transmogrified into something between a forest and a
flower-garden, and I then began, for the first time, to surmise where
all