At
either end of the table, to right and left of us, stood a long-bearded
priest in splendid robes, and wearing the hat with depending veil of
black. One of them, who seemed to be the more important of the two, and
took the initiative, signed to us to put our right hands on the open
book. My Lady, of course, understood the ritual, and knew the words
which the priest was speaking, and of her own accord put out her hand. My guide at the same moment directed my hand to the same end. It
thrilled me to touch my Lady's hand, even under such mysterious
conditions. After the priest had signed us each thrice on the forehead with the sign
of the Cross, he gave to each of us a tiny lighted taper brought to him
for the purpose. The lights were welcome, not so much for the solace of
the added light, great as that was, but because it allowed us to see a
little more of each other's faces. It was rapture to me to see the face
of my Bride; and from the expression of her face I was assured that she
felt as I did. It gave me an inexpressible pleasure when, as her eyes
rested on me, there grew a faint blush over the grey pallor of her
cheeks. The priest then put in solemn voice to each of us in turn, beginning with
me, the questions of consent which are common to all such rituals. I
answered as well as I could, following the murmured words of my guide. My Lady answered out proudly in a voice which, though given softly,
seemed to ring. It was a concern--even a grief--to me that I could not,
in the priest's questioning, catch her name, of which, strangely
enough,--I was ignorant. But, as I did not know the language, and as the
phrases were not in accord literally with our own ritual, I could not
make out which word was the name. After some prayers and blessings, rhythmically spoken or sung by an
invisible choir, the priest took the rings from the open book, and, after
signing my forehead thrice with the gold one as he repeated the blessing
in each case, placed it on my right hand; then he gave my Lady the silver
one, with the same ritual thrice repeated. I suppose it was the blessing
which is the effective point in making two into one. After this, those who stood behind us exchanged our rings thrice, taking
them from one finger and placing them on the other, so that at the end my
wife wore the gold ring and I the silver one. Then came a chant, during which the priest swung the censer himself, and
my wife and I held our tapers. After that he blessed us, the responses
coming from the voices of the unseen singers in the darkness. After a long ritual of prayer and blessing, sung in triplicate, the
priest took the crowns of flowers, and put one on the head of each,
crowning me first, and with the crown tied with gold. Then he signed and
blessed us each thrice. The guides, who stood behind us, exchanged our
crowns thrice, as they had exchanged the rings; so that at the last, as I
was glad to see, my wife wore the crown of gold, and I that of silver. Then there came, if it is possible to describe such a thing, a hush over
even that stillness, as though some form of added solemnity were to be
gone through. I was not surprised, therefore, when the priest took in
his hands the great golden chalice. Kneeling, my wife and I partook
together thrice. When we had risen from our knees and stood for a little while, the priest
took my left hand in his right, and I, by direction of my guide, gave my
right hand to my wife. And so in a line, the priest leading, we circled
round the table in rhythmic measure. Those who supported us moved behind
us, holding the crowns over our heads, and replacing them when we
stopped. After a hymn, sung through the darkness, the priest took off our crowns. This was evidently the conclusion of the ritual, for the priest placed us
in each other's arms to embrace each other. Then he blessed us, who were
now man and wife! The lights went out at once, some as if extinguished, others slowly
fading down to blackness. Left in the dark, my wife and I sought each other's arms again, and stood
together for a few moments heart to heart, tightly clasping each other,
and kissed each other fervently. Instinctively we turned to the door of the church, which was slightly
open, so that we could see the moonlight stealing in through the
aperture. With even steps, she holding me tightly by the left arm--which
is the wife's arm, we passed through the old church and out into the free
air. Despite all that the gloom had brought me, it was sweet to be in the open
air and together--this quite apart from our new relations to each other. The moon rode high, and the full light, coming after the dimness or
darkness in the church, seemed as bright as day. I could now, for the
first time, see my wife's face properly. The glamour of the moonlight
may have served to enhance its ethereal beauty, but neither moonlight nor
sunlight could do justice to that beauty in its living human splendour. As I gloried in her starry eyes I could think of nothing else; but when
for a moment my eyes, roving round for the purpose of protection, caught
sight of her whole figure, there was a pang to my heart. The brilliant
moonlight showed every detail in terrible effect, and I could see that
she wore only her Shroud. In the moment of darkness, after the last
benediction, before she returned to my arms, she must have removed her
bridal veil. This may, of course, have been in accordance with the
established ritual of her church; but, all the same, my heart was sore. The glamour of calling her my very own was somewhat obscured by the
bridal adornment being shorn. But it made no difference in her sweetness
to me. Together we went along the path through the wood, she keeping
equal step with me in wifely way. When we had come through the trees near enough to see the roof of the
Castle, now gilded with the moonlight, she stopped, and looking at me
with eyes full of love, said:

"Here I must leave you!" "What?" I was all aghast, and I felt that my chagrin was expressed in
the tone of horrified surprise in my voice. She went on quickly:

"Alas! It is impossible that I should go farther--at present!" "But what is to prevent you?" I queried. "You are now my wife. This is
our wedding-night; and surely your place is with me!" The wail in her
voice as she answered touched me to the quick:

"Oh, I know, I know! There is no dearer wish in my heart--there can be
none--than to share my husband's home. Oh, my dear, my dear, if you only
knew what it would be to me to be with you always! But indeed I may
not--not yet! I am not free! If you but knew how much that which has
happened to-night has cost me--or how much cost to others as well as to
myself may be yet to come--you would understand.