Year: 1874

TUST as the sun was sinking, one fine
~ day in June, carriage stopped at the
gate of the old stone church in Merton and
two ladies, young, lovely and richly dress
ed, were handed out by gentleman who
had, for the last half hour, been pacing up
and down the church-yard, pausing now
and then to read the name on some moss
covered stone or leaning for moment
against one of the magnificent old trees
that beautified and solemnized the spot.
1t seemed, by his eager greeting, that he
had been impatiently waiting the coming
of the beautiful girls whom he directly
conducted into the church. Almost i'm
mediately after them the good old rector
entered, leaning on the arm of his nephew,
a slender, graceful youth, whom he had
brought as a witness of ceremony he had
been urged to perform in the most private
manner Reverently the old man opened
his book and the young people silently
placed themselves before the altar. The
quiet Of the lonely church, made more i'm
pressive by the shadowy dimness of the
twilight hour, the full, deep, solemn voice
of the rector and the low though earnest
tones of the young respondents, which
alone broke the almost painful silence, gave
an air of sadness to that strange bridal,
and when Robert Elliot signed that mar
riage certificate, as witness, his hand
trembled and his young heart sank with
sad foreboding of sorrow either to himself
or the young and beautiful pair who had
just received the nuptial benediction. ST.
lently and slowly the parties left the church
and as much to the surprise of the boy as
to the horror Of the good sexton who open
ed the gate to them, the bridegroom, after
few hurried sentences and warm en-
brace, handed his weeping bride into the
carriage, then pressing the hand of her
sister, who was already seated, with fer
vent "God bless you" and one glance of
anguish, turned hastily away and mount
ing horse which awaited him, rode off
rapidly In onr direction while the carriage
Immediately rolled away in another.


"pm afraid they'll come to no good,
said the sexton as he shut the heavy iron
gate and placed the key in his stout leather
pouch, touching his cap respectfully to the
rector as he finished, and "good night,
master Robert" to the stripping who just
then stopped and took from the pavement
where it had probably fallen from the hand
of the bridegroom, in that hurried parting,
folded paper which he instantly Tecog-
nized as the marriage certificate.


Robert Elliot was his sisters son, an
orphan boy whom he was training to fill
his own place, as ne hoped, in after years,
but those who saw the fire in the boys
dark eye and marked his proud, firm bear
ing, even in eaily youth, thought him ILL
suited to the holy calling, and he himself
had many a vision Of honors gained and
laurels won in far different sphere from
that secluded village. Still he remained at
the parsonage, dutiful and patient pupil,
dearly loving the good old man to whom
he was the last earth-tlOwer the only
being, out of heaven, he could call his
own.


When Robert handed the certificate that
evening to the rector, the old mans face
saddened for a moment and he said,


"They should have taken more care
put it in my prayer-book, my son they
will doubtless call for it soon, and to-mor-
row you must record the marriage for me
in the parish register"


Robert placed the paper asdesired, and
then seating himself on low bench at his
uncle's feet, began talking Of the strange
and secret marriage saying,


"Did you know the parties before,
sir?"


f"I never saw the bride on her sister till
we met in the church, but have known
tho bridegroom, Richard Harding, since