about, for at least a score of people were standing here and there in
knots, or a few of them seated on the oak benches near the chancel. All
these turned to stare at them eagerly as they walked towards the altar
where stood the priest in his robes, and since his sight was dim, behind
him the old clerk with a stable-lantern held on high to enable him to
read from his book.

They reached the carven rood-screen, and at a sign kneeled down. In a
clear voice the clergyman began the service; presently, at another sign,
the pair rose, advanced to the altar-rails and again knelt down. The
moonlight, flowing through the eastern window, fell full on both of
them, turning them to cold, white statues, such as those that knelt in
marble upon the tomb at their side.

All through the holy office Cicely watched these statues with fascinated
eyes, and it seemed to her that they and the old crusaders, Harfletes
of a long-past day who lay near by, were watching her with a wistful and
kindly interest. She made certain answers, a ring that was somewhat too
small was thrust upon her finger--all the rest of her life that ring
hurt her at times, but she would have never it moved, and then some
one was kissing her. At first she thought it must be her father, and
remembering, nearly wept till she heard Christopher's voice calling her
wife, and knew that she was wed.

Father Roger, the old clerk still holding the lantern behind him,
writing something in a little vellum book, asking her the date of
her birth and her full name, which, as he had been present at her
christening, she thought strange. Then her husband signed the book,
using the altar as a table, not very easily for he was no great scholar,
and she signed also in her maiden name for the last time, and the priest