Next to the altar stood Sir Frederick Langley, dark,
moody, and thoughtful, even beyond his wont, and near him, Mareschal,
who was to play the part of bridesman, as it was called. The thoughtless
humour of this young gentleman, on which he never deigned to place
the least restraint, added to the cloud which overhung the brow of the
bridegroom.
"The bride is not yet come out of her chamber," he whispered to Sir
Frederick; "I trust that we must not have recourse to the violent
expedients of the Romans which I read of at College. It would be hard
upon my pretty cousin to be run away with twice in two days, though I
know none better worth such a violent compliment."
Sir Frederick attempted to turn a deaf ear to this discourse, humming a
tune, and looking another may, but Mareschal proceeded in the same wild
manner.
"This delay is hard upon Dr. Hobbler, who was disturbed to accelerate
preparations for this joyful event when he had successfully extracted
the cork of his third bottle.
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