CHAPTER XXVII.

ROBERT SHERBORNE'S MARRIAGE.

THERE was an unmistakeable stir in the Precincts at Norhambury on the morning of the Thursday in Easter week. The Eversleys had made themselves. universally popular; and besides, under any circumstances, a local marriage is always a great event.

It was a bright sunny morning; and Easter having fallen late that year, there was a shadowy green haze over the fine old elms; while the spring shoots of the lilac-trees and other shrubs glittered like gems against the old grey walls.

Alice wished all her friends to be present. The two Miss Ashbrookes, who, ever since the morning visit to Mrs. Eversley's, had become real friends, and could no longer be called "dull"—at least, by the

Eversleys-were to be bridesmaids; as were also Lady Anne Oakham's two little girls, Isabella and Emily. The respective sisters, Evelyn and Mabel, made up the three couples.

Precisely at eleven o'clock the carriages began to set down at the great west door of the Cathedral, while the side doors were thronged with those who came on foot. All the old maids came, for Alice and Evelyn had been kind to each. The workhouse children had begged for a holiday, and had leave to come and see "Miss Alice" married, both of which requests were granted, with the additional delight of the promise of a huge plum bun apiece-a present from Robert Sherborne-on their return home. They were ranged on each side the nave, overtopped by many other spectators. The last carriage contained Alice, her mother, and Evelyn; Captain Maynard was at the door to take charge of the bride, with the bridesmaids who followed her. Immediately after them came Mrs. Eversley and Robert's father; and the rest of the relations and friends made a tolerably long procession. There was everything to make it a beautiful, a touching, and an impressive ceremony. The morning sun shone brightly down into the choir,

as, two and two, the wedding-party advanced, while the organ played softly. Most of those present knew what a long attachment it had been, and all knew of his heroic courage and miraculous escape, when almost within sight of his native land.

The Marriage Service is impressive or not, according to the manner in which it is performed. It would have been impossible to have it more solemnly read than it was on this day by Reginald Leslie. His whole heart and soul seemed absorbed in the service in which he was engaged. And when it was over, and the Bishop had given the final blessing, there was deep silence for some minutes throughout the choir. It was broken by the organ bursting forth with Mendelssohn's Wedding March. Alice rose from her knees, and, turning to her mother, gave her one fervent embrace; then, taking her husband's arm, they returned down the nave. As they entered the carriage, the Cathedral bells rung out a merry peal; and, like their echo, St. Peter's were heard on the other side of the town.

Mrs. Eversley's house was open all that day.

"I will not have a regular breakfast," she said "but there will be refreshments for all who like to

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come." And many did like to come, to have a farewell look at "dear Miss Eversley."

Captain Maynard was invaluable. He spared his sister all trouble in entertaining her guests; and whenever he saw her or Evelyn inclined to give way, he said or did something which brought smiles back again.

Lord Condover had offered the young couple a beautiful villa near London, as a resting-place on their way to Dover. They had accepted it for two or three days; but Robert promised his father not to leave England till it was known what opinion the lawyers would give about the will.

They were to go by an afternoon train, and to drive to a station on the outskirts of the town, as more private. Captain Maynard never relaxed his efforts to make everyone cheerful. As the hour of departure drew near, a respectful crowd might be seen gathering about the door, and lining the road to the old gateway, under which the carriage would pass. As they had lined the nave, so now the workhouse children stood foremost in the ranks. Time did not hang heavily on their hands, for each was armed with his or her gigantic bun.

The carriage, with its white favours, came at last. The Oakhams, Canon Leslie, and Miss Harley were the only exceptions to the family circle who remained to see the departure. Alice took leave of her mother. in her own room. Evelyn came down with her to the drawing-room. Traces of tears were visible through her smiles. No one was forgotten in her farewells. And when Robert led her downstairs to the carriage door, she turned aside, to say a parting word to a decrepit old woman who had come on crutches to see all she could. A tremendous cheer was raised

as the carriage drove off. The workhouse boys, buns in hand, rushed up to the carriage, to have a last look.

"Eh! didn't she look beautiful, Bill, as she came down the Cathedral!"

All was over by three o'clock. And what a blank it seemed! The guests dispersed, and Mrs. Eversley was left to rest. Poor Evelyn! She wept bitterly. What should she do without her only sister-the companion of her life? Miss Harley was the intimate friend who knew best what such a separation was. It recalled to her mind what it had been to her when her only sister married Reginald's father!