Burrell, who feared that even in the very brief space which now
remained, Sir Robert would betray the weakness of his mind, stepped
forward, and would have taken her hand; but she put him from her, with a
single gesture, saying,-"Not yet, sir, I am still all my father's.--Father, I am ready."
It was pitiable to see the vacant eye which Sir Robert fixed upon her
pale, fine face, and most painful to observe the look of anxious inquiry
with which she regarded him.
"Dear father," she exclaimed at length, sinking on her knees, "dear
father, speak to me."
The gesture and the voice recalled him for a little to himself. He
kissed her cheek affectionately, and, rising with much of the dignity of
former years, pressed her to his bosom.
"Forgive me, child;--my Lady Frances, I crave your pardon--I am
myself again--I was a trifle indisposed, but it is over. Fill me
some wine," he commanded to the attendants, who gathered in the
doorway--"Yes--up--full--more full; I drink--" he continued, with a
gaiety of manner suiting ill with his grey hairs and pallid face--"I
drink to the happiness and prosperity of my daughter and her
bridegroom!" He quaffed to the bottom of the cup, then flung it from
him.
"Now go we to the bridal," he said, leading Constantia forward, while
Sir Willmott conducted Lady Frances, who hardly condescended to touch
the hand he presented to her. As they passed an open court, leading to
the little chapel, Sir Robert stopped abruptly, and addressing his
daughter, said,-"But I have not blessed you yet; you would not like to die without my
blessing."
"Die, my father!" repeated Constance.
"I pray your pardon, child," he replied, in a half muttering, half
speaking voice--"I was thinking of your mother: but now I quite remember
me, this is a bridal," and he hurried her forward to the altar where the
clergyman stood ready to receive them.
"Sir Willmott Burrell," said Constantia to the knight, as he placed
himself at her side, "my father is ill, and I cannot think upon what his
malady may be with any thing like calmness; if what I dread is true, you
will not force me from him."
"Let the ceremony proceed, and, villain as I know you think me, I will
not oppose any plan you may form for him," was Burrell's reply. Lady
Frances stood close beside her friend; and Barbara, in her white robes
and simple beauty, headed the group of servants who crowded round the
steps.