Chapter 34 - Page 2

saw nor suspected the
real state of the health and feelings of his unhappy bride.

On the eve of the bridal day, Lucy appeared to have one of her fits
of levity, and surveyed with a degree of girlish interest the various
preparations of dress, etc., etc., which the different members of the
family had prepared for the occasion.

The morning dawned bright and cheerily. The bridal guests assembled
in gallant troops from distant quarters. Not only the relations of Sir
William Ashton, and the still more dignified connexions of his lady,
together with the numerous kinsmen and allies of the bridegroom, were
present upon this joyful ceremony, gallantly mounted, arrayed, and
caparisoned, but almost every Presbyterian family of distinction within
fifty miles made a point of attendance upon an occasion which was
considered as giving a sort of triumph over the Marquis of A----, in the
person of his kinsman. Splendid refreshments awaited the guests on their
arrival, and after these were finished, the cray was "To horse." The
bride was led forth betwixt her brother Henry and her mother. Her
gaiety of the preceding day had given rise [place] to a deep shade of
melancholy, which, however, did not misbecome an occasion so momentous.
There was a light in her eyes and a colour in her cheek which had not
been kindled for many a day, and which, joined to her great beauty, and
the splendour of her dress, occasioned her entrance to be greeted with
an universal murmur of applause, in which even the ladies could not
refrain from joining. While the cavalcade were getting to horse, Sir
William Ashton, a man of peace and of form, censured his son Henry for
having begirt himself with a military sword of preposterous length,
belonging to his brother, Colonel Ashton.

"If you must have a weapon," he said, "upon such a peaceful occasion,
why did you not use the short poniard sent from Edinburgh on purpose?"

The boy vindicated himself by saying it was lost.

"You put it out of the way yourself, I suppose," said his father, "out
of ambition to wear that preposterous thing, which might have served Sir
William Wallace. But never mind, get to horse now, and take care of your
sister."

The boy did so, and was placed in the centre of the gallant train. At
the time, he was too full of his own appearance, his sword, his laced
cloak, his feathered hat, and his managed horse, to pay much regard to
anything else; but he afterwards remembered to the hour of his death,
that when the hand of his sister, by which she supported hersel on
the pillion behind him, touched his own, it felt as wet and cold as
sepulchral marble.

Glancing wide over hill and dale, the fair bridal