resting on her hands.

"That is not true," said Emlyn in her bold voice. "Am I who suckled you
no friend, and is Father Necton here no friend, and is Sir Christopher
no friend? Well, if you have lost your judgment, I have kept mine, and
here it is. Yonder, not two bowshots away, stands a church, and before
me I see a priest and a pair who would serve for bride and bridegroom.
Also we can rake up witnesses and a cup of wine to drink your health;
and after that let the Abbot of Blossholme do his worst. What say you,
Sir Christopher?"

"You know my mind, Nurse Emlyn; but what says Cicely? Oh! Cicely, what
say _you_?" and he bent over her.

She raised herself, still weeping, and, throwing her arms about his
neck, laid her head upon his shoulder.

"I think it is the will of God," she whispered, "and why should I fight
against it, who am His servant?--and yours, Chris."

"And now, Father, what say you?" asked Emlyn, pointing to the pair.

"I do not think there is much to say," answered the old clergyman,
turning his head aside, "save that if it should please you to come to
the church in ten minutes' time you will find a candle on the altar, and
a priest within the rails, and a clerk to hold the book. More we cannot
do at such short notice."

Then he paused for a while, and, hearing no dissent, walked down the
hall and out of the door.