Wilkie Collins

The Law and the Lady Wilkie Collins

FOR after this manner in the old time the holy women also who trusted in God adornedthemselves, being in subjection unto their own husbands; even as Sarah obeyed Abraham, callinghim lord; whose daughters ye are as long as ye do well, and are not afraid with any amazement."Concluding the Marriage Service of the Church of England in those well-known words, my uncleStarkweather shut up his book, and looked at me across the altar rails with a hearty expression ofinterest on his broad, red face. At the same time my aunt, Mrs. Starkweather, standing by my side, tapped me smartly on the shoulder, and said,"Valeria, you are married!"Where were my thoughts? What had become of my attention? I was too bewildered to know. Istarted and looked at my new husband. He seemed to be almost as much bewildered as I was. Thesame thought had, as I believe, occurred to us both at the same moment. Was it really possible-inspite of his mother's opposition to our marriage-that we were Man and Wife? My auntStarkweather settled the question by a second tap on my shoulder."Take his arm!" she whispered, in the tone of a woman who had lost all patience with me. I took his arm."Follow your uncle."Holding fast by my husband's arm, I followed my uncle and the curate who had assisted him atthe marriage. The two clergymen led us into the vestry. The church was in one of the dreary quarters ofLondon, situated between the City and the West End; the day was dull; the atmosphere was heavyand damp. We were a melancholy little wedding party, worthy of the dreary neighborhood and thedull day. No relatives or friends of my husband's were present; his family, as I have already hinted, disapproved of his marriage. Except my uncle and my aunt, no other relations appeared on my side. I had lost both my parents, and I had but few friends. My dear father's faithful old clerk, Benjamin, attended the wedding to "give me away," as the phrase is. He had known me from a child, and, inmy forlorn position, he was as good as a father to me. The last ceremony left to be performed was, as usual, the signing of the marriage register. In theconfusion of the moment (and in the absence of any information to guide me) I committed amistake-ominous, in my aunt Starkweather's opinion, of evil to come. I signed my married insteadof my maiden na