The Child Wife

The Meet at Church

For Maynard a happy morn!

It was that of the day on which Blanche Vernon was to become his bride!

His presentiment was upon the point of being fulfilled; the child was to be his wife!

Not by abduction; not by clandestine marriage; but openly, in the face of the world, and with the consent of her father!

Sir George had conceded – arranged everything, even to the details of the marriage ceremony.

It was to be soon – at once.

Before dying, he desired to see his daughter bestowed and under protection.

If he had not chosen the arms that were to protect her, he no longer opposed her choice.

He had now sanctified it by a free formal approval. His future son-in-law was no more a stranger-guest in the mansion at Sevenoaks, Kent.

The nuptials were not to be celebrated there. Not that Sir George would have felt any shame in such celebration; but because he did not deem it opportune.

He knew that ere long sable plumes would be seen waving there, with a black hatchment upon the wall. He wished not that these funereal emblems should so soon fling their blighting shadow over the orange blossoms of the bridal.

It could be conveniently avoided. He had a sister living in Kensington Gore; and from her house his daughter could be married.

Besides, the old parish church of Kensington was that before whose altar he had himself stood, some twenty years ago, with Blanche’s mother by his side.

The arrangement would be altogether appropriate.

It was determined upon; and Captain Maynard was requested to present himself upon a certain day, at a certain hour, in the church of Saint Mary’s, Kensington.

He came, accompanied by Count Francis Teleky; and there met his bride attended by her maids.

They were not many, for Blanche had expressed a desire to shun ostentation. She only wanted to be wed to the man who had won her heart!

But few as were her bridesmaids, they were among the noblest of the land, each of them bearing a title.

And they were of its loveliest too; every one of them entitled to the appellation of “belle.”

The bridegroom saw them not. Having saluted each with a simple bow, his eyes became bent upon his bride; and there stayed they.

No colours blend more harmoniously than those of the sunbeam and the rose. Over none drapes the bridal veil more becomingly.

Blanche Vernon needed not to blush. She had colour enough without that.

But as her gaze met his, and his voice, like the challenge to some beleaguered citadel, seemed to sound the death-knell of her maiden days, she felt a strange sweet trembling in her heart, while the tint deepened upon her cheeks.

She was but too happy to surrender.

Never in Maynard’s eyes had she looked so lovely. He stood as if spell-bound, gazing upon her beauty, with but one thought in his mind – a longing to embrace her!

He who has worshipped only in churches of modern structure can have but little idea of the interior of one such as that of Saint Mary’s, Kensington. Its deep pews and heavy overhanging galleries, its shadowy aisles flanked by pillars and pilasters, make it the type of the sacred antique; and on Maynard’s mind it produced this impression.

And he thought of the thousands of thousands who had worshipped within its walls, of knights and noble dames, who had knelt before its altar, and whose escutcheons were recorded in the stained glass of its windows, as in brass palimpsests set in the flags beneath his feet. How suggestive these records of high chivalric thought, penetrating the far past, and flinging their mystic influence over the present!

It was upon Maynard, as he stood regarding them.

Chapter Eighty Five.

The Climax of a Criminal Scheme

Despite the archaeological attractions of Saint Mary’s Church, the bridegroom began to grow impatient With such a bride before him, no wonder he wished quick conduct to the altar!

And there was reason too, on account of the long detention. At such a crisis the shortest delay was difficult to be endured.

It mattered but little that he knew the cause; for he did know it.

Summoned at eleven o’clock, he had been there at the appointed time; but to find that he and his bride were not the only couple to be made happy on that same day, and at the same hour! There was a party that had precedence of his!

On first coming into the church, he had seen signs of it – women in white dresses and drooping veils, with flower fillets upon their hair.

He had only glanced at them in passing. His own bride was not among them; and his eyes were only for her!

While registering his name in the vestry, he had learned incidentally, that not one, but two couples were to be married before him, both together! He was told that the parties were friends.

This information was imparted by the officiating curate; who, after giving it, hurried off to perform the ceremony of making four hearts happy at one and the same time.

As Maynard and his groomsman returned into the church, they saw standing before the altar, in crescent shape, a row of ladies and gentlemen. There were in all eight of them – two brides, two bridegrooms, with a like number of “maids” and “men.”

It was only after again saluting his own bride, and feasting his eyes upon her beauty, that it occurred to him to take a look at those whose happiness was by some ten minutes to take precedence of his.

His first glance caused him a singular impression. It was almost ludicrous from the coincidence that declared itself.

Count Roseveldt was standing before the shrine, with Ladislaus Teleky by his side, at the same instant recognised by the man at Maynard’s side – his cousin!

But who was the lady on Roseveldt’s left, holding him by the hand? Cornelia Inskip!

Another coincidence; still another was in store for him; equally strange and far more startling!

Following the crescent curvature, he scrutinised the couple on Count Roseveldt’s right. They were the other two standing up to be married.

It was with difficulty he could restrain an ejaculation, on recognising Julia Girdwood as the bride, and Richard Swinton the bridegroom!

With an effort he controlled himself. It was no business of his; and he only made the muttered remark: – “Poor girl! there’s something noble about her. What a pity she should throw herself away on such a scamp as Dick Swinton!”

Maynard knew only some of Dick Swinton’s antecedents. He had no suspicion that the ex-guardsman was at that moment in the act of committing bigamy!

It had not yet reached fulfilment. It was upon the verge of it. As Maynard stood in speechless contemplation, the clergyman came to that solemn question, proceeding from his lips in the form of a demand: —