"Edith, wilt thou have this man to thy wedded husband, to live together after G.o.d"s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou obey him and serve him, love, honor, and keep him in sickness and in health; and forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?"
Edith tried to say "I will," but only an unintelligible sound escaped her.
Then the clergyman went on, while the bridegroom repeated in a whisper these words:
"I, Leon, take thee, Edith, to my wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to G.o.d"s holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth."
The clergyman then said the words for Edith, but she could not repeat the formula after him. Here and there she uttered a word or two in a disjointed way, but that was all.
Then Edith felt her hand taken and a ring put on her finger.
Then the clergyman said the next formula, which the bridegroom repeated after him in a whisper as before:
"With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow," etc., etc.
Then followed a prayer, after which the clergy man, joining their right hands together, said,
"Those whom G.o.d hath joined together, let no man put asunder."
Then followed the remainder of the service, and at its conclusion the clergyman solemnly wished them every happiness.
"I suppose I may go now," said he; and as there was no answer, he groped his way to the door, flung it open, and took his departure.
During all this service Edith had been in a condition verging upon half unconsciousness. The low murmur of voices, the hurried words of the clergyman, the whispers of the bridegroom, were all confused together in an unintelligible whole, and even her own answers had scarce made any impression upon her. Her head seemed to spin, her brain to whirl, and all her frame to sink away. At length the grating of the opening door, the clergyman"s departing footsteps, and the slight increase of light roused her.
She was married!
Where was her husband?
This thought came to her with a new horror. Deep silence had followed the clergyman"s departure. She in her weakness was not noticed.
Dudleigh, the loving, the devoted, had no love or devotion for her now.
Where was he? The silence was terrible.
But at last that silence was broken--fearfully.
"Come," said a voice which thrilled the inmost soul of Edith with horror unspeakable: "I"m tired of humbugging. I"m going home. Come along, Mrs.
Dudleigh."
The horror that pa.s.sed through Edith at the sound of this voice for a moment seemed to paralyze her. She turned to where the voice sounded. It was the man beside her who spoke--the bridegroom! He was not Dudleigh--not Little Dudleigh! He was tall and large. It was the witness. What frightful mockery was this? But the confusion of thought that arose was rudely interrupted. A strong hand was laid upon hers, and again that voice spoke:
"Come along, Mrs. Dudleigh!"
"What is--this?" gasped Edith.
"Why, you"re married, that"s all. You ought to know that by this time."
"Away!" cried Edith, with a sharp cry. "Who are you? Dudleigh!
Dudleigh! where are you? Will you not help me?"
"That"s not very likely," said the same voice, in a mocking tone. "His business is to help _me_."
"Oh, my G.o.d! what is the meaning of this?"
"Oh, it"s simple enough. It means that you"re my wife."
"_Your_ wife! Oh, Dudleigh: oh, my friend! what does all this mean? Why do you not speak?"
But Dudleigh said nothing.
"I have no objections to explaining," said the voice. "You"re actually married to me. My name is not Mowbray. It"s Leon Dudleigh, the individual that you just plighted your troth to. My small friend here is not _Leon_ Dudleigh, whatever other Dudleigh he may call himself.
He is the witness."
"It"s false!" cried Edith. "Lieutenant Dudleigh would never betray me."
"Well, at any rate," said Leon, "I happen to be the happy man who alone can claim you as his bride."
"Villain!" shrieked Edith, in utter horror. "Cursed villain! Let go my hand. This is all mockery. Your wife!--I would die first."
"Indeed you won"t," said Leon--"not while you have me to love and to cherish you, in sickness and in health, till death us do part, and forsaking all others, keep only unto you, in the beautiful words of that interesting service."
"It"s a lie! it"s a lie!" cried Edith. "Oh, Lieutenant Dudleigh, I have trusted you implicitly, and I trust you yet. Come to me--save me!"
And in her anguish Edith sank down upon her knees, and held out her arms imploringly.
"Dudleigh!" she moaned. "Oh, my friend! Oh, only come--only save me from this villain, and I will love--I will love and bless you--I will be your menial--I will--"
"Pooh!" said Leon, "I"m the only Dudleigh about. If you knew half as much about my _dear friend_ the lieutenant as I do, you would know what infernal nonsense you are talking;" and seizing her hand, he tried to raise her. "Come," said he, "up with you."
Edith tried to loosen her hand, whereupon Leon dashed it away.
"Who wants your hand?" he cried: "I"m your husband, not your lover."
"Lieutenant Dudleigh!" moaned Edith.
"Well, lieutenant," said Leon, "speak up. Come along. Tell her, if you like."
"Lieutenant Dudleigh, save me."
"Oh, great Heaven!" said a voice like that of the one whom Edith knew as Lieutenant Dudleigh--"oh, great Heaven! it"s too much."
"Oh ho!" cried Leon: "so you"re going to blubber too, are you? Mind, now, it"s all right if you are only true."
"Oh, Leon, how you wring my heart!" cried the other, in a low, tremulous voice.
"Lieutenant Dudleigh!" cried Edith again. "Oh, my friend, answer me!
Tell me that it is all a lie. Tell me--"
But Lieutenant Dudleigh flung himself on the stone pavement, and groaned and sobbed convulsively.