It was three days
after, and for the first time in my fifteen years of life, I
stood in sunshine, and daylight, and open air. We drove to the
cathedral - for it was in St. Paul's the sacrilege was committed.
I never could have walked there, I was so stunned, and giddy, and
bewildered. I never thought of the marriage - I could think of
nothing but the bright, crashing, sun-shiny world without, till I
was led up before the clergyman, with much the air, I suppose, of
one walking in her sleep. He was a very young man, I remember,
and looked from the dwarf to me, and from me to the dwarf, in a
great state of fear and uncertainty, but evidently not daring to
refuse. Margery and one of his gang were our only attendants,
and there, in God's temple, the deed was done, and I was made the
miserable thing I am to-day."
The suppressed passion, rising and throbbing like a white flame
in her face and eyes, made her stop for a moment, breathing hard.
Looking up she met Sir Norman's gaze, and as if there was
something in its quiet, pitying tenderness that mesmerized her
into calm, she steadily and rapidly went on.
"I awoke to a new life, after that; but not to one of freedom and
happiness.
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