Part 85 (2/2)

had overwhelmed Margaret.

Then a strange thing happened. As Michael said proudly and distinctly, ”And thereto I give thee my troth,” Margaret saw that he was surrounded by a brilliant light. He stood in the centre of long shafts of suns.h.i.+ne; they played round his head like the rays of Aton. Her terror of death vanished as swiftly as it had come. This was the light which guarded Michael in battle. A super-elation dispersed the thought of the brief married life which might be hers, that she might be stepping into widowhood even while she repeated her vows.

Bewilderment made her forget her part in the ceremony. She felt, but did not see the clergyman take her hand from Michael's. He separated them for a moment and then put her hand on the top of Michael's. He whispered something to her. Then she remembered her part, and said slowly and clearly after him the same words which Michael had repeated.

The words ”until death us do part” were said as she might have said them in pre-war days.

After that she was free from all nervousness and all sense of unreality. She saw Michael take the ring from the clergyman's fingers and hold it in his own hand. She smiled to him happily, as she saw his expression of relief and tenderness. In one moment more they would be man and wife; no distance or grief could change that.

When they knelt together for the first time as man and wife, and listened to the words of the beautiful prayer that they might ”ever remain in perfect love and peace together,” Margaret's happiness made her prayer a song of praise. If it was ordained that Michael was to be spared to her, how simple and natural a thing it would be for ever to remain in perfect love and peace together! Loving each other as they did, that would not be one of their difficulties. It was so restful to kneel side by side with Michael, listening to the gentle and solemn words, that she would have liked the prayer to go on for a long time.

Her nervous condition made her apprehensive. Here, in the quiet church, which lay right in the heart-beat of the city, there was a divine sense of security.

Their heads were bent together; their arms were almost touching; their heart-beats were in unison; their minds were one.

But the prayer was finished. Michael's hand had clasped hers again; he was far more conscious of his part in the ceremony than she was of hers. He held her hand as if it was his world, the kingdom he had come into, while his eyes expressed his emotion and grat.i.tude.

As the words ”Those whom G.o.d hath joined together let no man put asunder,” and ”I p.r.o.nounce you man and wife,” echoed through the chancel, Michael Ireton and Hada.s.sah gave a pent-up sigh of relief.

When the clergyman turned to the altar and read aloud the sixty-seventh Psalm--Michael had requested it in preference to the hundred and twenty-eighth, which is perhaps the more usual--Hada.s.sah saw the bride and bridegroom smile happily to each other. They smiled, because Michael had often read the Psalm to Margaret and remarked on its similarity to the prayers of Akhnaton.

”G.o.d be merciful unto us, and bless us: and show us the light of His countenance, and be merciful unto us;

”That Thy way may be known upon earth: Thy saving health among all nations.

”Let the people praise Thee, O G.o.d: yea, let all the people praise Thee.

”O let the nations rejoice and be glad: for Thou shalt judge the folk righteously, and govern the nations upon earth.

”Let the people praise Thee, O G.o.d: yea, let all the people praise Thee.”

”Thou shalt govern the nations upon earth.” That had been Akhnaton's mission, to preach these words, to tell the people that G.o.d, and man's understanding of His Love, must rule the world.

”Then shall the earth bring forth her increase: and G.o.d, even our own G.o.d, shall give us His blessing.”

Akhnaton had sung his Hymn of Praise in his temples and in the pleasure-courts of his city in almost the very same words.

Confident that righteousness would triumph, that G.o.d's world-kingdom had come, he suffered the wrath of his military commanders, who were watching the breaking-up of his kingdom in far-off Syria.

Two hours later the bride and the bridegroom, the two happiest people in London, drove away from the Iretons' rooms in Clarges Street.

Hada.s.sah and Michael Ireton watched them until the taxi was out of sight. As they turned into the hall, with something very like tears in their eyes--for even in the happiest marriages there is the quality of tears--Michael put his arms round his wife and drew her to him. As she looked up into his rugged face, his eyes more than his words said:

”We know how they feel, dearest! G.o.d bless them! Such happiness makes one weep in these days.”

Hada.s.sah pressed her dark head against his coat-sleeve. He held her closely; each day she was more precious in his sight.

”They are worthy of each other.” His voice broke. ”Really, when one sees such happiness, one says to oneself, even if they have only a fortnight together, it is a great deal, a wonderful thing.”

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