Part 46 (1/2)
”It may be so,” replied Mrs. Mowbray, in the same tone. ”I think that the peculiar softness in the eye is more than natural.”
”I will at least hazard an experiment, to attest the truth or fallacy of my supposition,” returned the father. ”Do you see your destined bridegroom yonder?” continued he, addressing Eleanor.
She followed with her eyes in the direction which Father Ambrose pointed. She beheld Luke. We know not how to describe the sensations which now possessed her. She thought not of Ranulph; or, if she did, it was with vague indifference. Wrapped in a kind of mental trance, she yielded to the pleasurable impulse that directed her unsettled fancies towards Luke. For some moments she did not take her eyes from him. The priest and Mrs. Mowbray watched her in silence.
Nothing pa.s.sed between the party till Luke joined them. Eleanor continued gazing at him, and the seeming tenderness of her glance emboldened Luke to advance towards her. The soft fire that dwelt in those orbs was, however, cold as the s.h.i.+ning wing of the luciola.
Luke approached her; he took her hand--she withdrew it not. He kissed it. Still she withdrew it not, but gazed at him with gently-glimmering eyes.
”My daughter is yours, Sir Luke Rookwood,” exclaimed Mrs. Mowbray.
”What says the maid herself?” asked Luke.
Eleanor answered not. Her eyes were still fixed on him.
”She will not refuse me her hand,” said Luke.
The victim resisted not.
”To the subterranean shrine,” cried Barbara. And she gave the preconcerted signal to the band.
The signal was repeated by the gipsy crew. We may here casually note, that the crew had been by no means uninterested or silent spectators of pa.s.sing events, but had, on the contrary, indulged themselves in a variety of conjectures as to their probable issue. Several bets were pending as to whether it would be a match or not after all. Zoroaster took long odds that the match was off--offering a _bean_ to _half-a-quid_--in other words, a guinea to a half-guinea--that Sybil would be the bride. His offer was taken at once by Jerry Juniper, and backed by the knight of Malta.
”Ha! there's the signal,” cried the knight; ”I'll trouble you for the bean.”
”And I,” added Jerry Juniper, ”for another.”
”See 'em fairly spliced first,” replied the Magus; ”that's vot I betted.”
”Vell, vell, a few minutes will settle that. Come, pals, to the autem ken. Avay. Mind and obey orders.”
”Ay, ay,” answered the crew.
”Here's a torch for the altar of Hymen,” said the knight, flas.h.i.+ng his torch in the eyes of the patrico as he pa.s.sed him.
”For the halter of Haman, you might say,” returned Balthazar, sulkily.
”It's well if some of us don't swing for it.”
”You don't say,” rejoined the perplexed Magus, ”swing! Egad I fear it's a ticklish business. But there's no fighting shy, I fear, with Barbara present; and then there's that infernal autem-bawler; it will be so cursedly regular. If you had done the job, Balty, it would not have signified a bra.s.s farden. Luckily there will be no vitnesses to snitch upon us. There will be no one in the vault besides ourselves.”
”There will be a silent and a solemn witness,” returned Balthazar, ”and one whom you expect not.”
”Eh! Vot's that you say? a spy?”
But the patrico was gone.
”Make way there--make way, pals, for the bride and bridegroom,” cried the knight of Malta, drawing Excalibur, and preparing to lead the way to the vault.
The train began to move. Eleanor leaned upon the arm of her mother.
Beside them stalked Barbara, with an aspect of triumph. Luke followed with the priest. One by one the a.s.semblage quitted the apartment.
The s.e.xton alone lingered. ”The moment is at hand,” said he, musingly, ”when all shall be consummated.”