The morning of the seventeenth dawned brightly over Sloperton. “A fine day for the wedding,” said the sexton to Swipes, the butler of Sloperton Grange. The aged retainer shook his head sadly. “Alas! there’s no trusting in signs!” he continued. “Seventy-five years ago, on a day like this, my young mistress”—but he was cut short by the appearance of a stranger.
“I would see Sir Edgardo,” said the new-comer impatiently.
The bridegroom, who, with the rest of the wedding-train, was about stepping into the carriage to proceed to the parish church, drew the stranger aside.
“I’s done!” said the stranger, in a hoarse whisper.
“Ah! and you buried her?”
“With the others!”
“Enough. No more at present. Meet me after the ceremony, and you shall have your reward.”
The stranger shuffled away, and Edgardo returned to his bride. “A trifling matter of business I had forgotten, my dear Selina; let us proceed.” And the young man pressed the timid hand of his blushing bride as he handed her into the carriage. The cavalcade rode out of the courtyard. At the same moment, the deep bell on Guy’s Keep tolled ominously.
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