CHAPTER XXVII.
We haste,-the chosen and the lovely bringing; Love still goes with her from her place of birth; Deep, silent joy, within her soul is springing, Though in her glance the light no more is mirth .-- Mrs.HEMANS.
"Damn it!" said the General.
"The vile creature!" cried Miss Diana.
"I don't understand things of that sort," ejaculated the bewildered Mr.
Glumford.
"She has certainly gone," said the valiant General.
"Certainly!" grunted Miss Diana.
"Gone!" echoed the bridegroom not to be.
And she was gone! Never did more loving and tender heart forsake all, and cling to a more loyal and generous nature.

The skies were darkened with clouds,-- "And the dim stars rushed through them rare and fast;" and the winds wailed with a loud and ominous voice; and the moon came forth, with a faint and sickly smile, from her chamber in the mist, and then shrank back, and was seen no more; but neither omen nor fear was upon Mordaunt's breast, as it swelled beneath the dark locks of Isabel, which were pressed against it.
As Faith clings the more to the cross of life, while the wastes deepen around her steps, and the adders creep forth upon her path, so love clasps that which is its hope and comfort the closer, for the desert which encompasses and the dangers which harass its way.
They had fled to London, and Isabel had been placed with a very distant and very poor, though very high-born, relative of Algernon, till the necessary preliminaries could be passed and the final bond knit.

Yet still the generous Isabel would have refused, despite the injury to her own fame, to have ratified a union which filled her with gloomy presentiments for Mordaunt's fate; and still Mordaunt by little and little broke down her tender scruples and self-immolating resolves, and ceased not his eloquence and his suit till the day of his nuptials was set and come.
The morning was bright and clear; the autumn was drawing towards its close, and seemed willing to leave its last remembrance tinged with the warmth and softness of its parent summer, rather than with the stern gloom and severity of its chilling successor.
And they stood beside the altar, and their vows were exchanged.

A slight tremor came over Algernon's frame, a slight shade darkened his countenance; for even in that bridal hour an icy and thrilling foreboding curdled to his heart; it passed,--the ceremony was over, and Mordaunt bore his blushing and weeping bride from the church.

His carriage was in attendance; for, not knowing how long the home of his ancestors might be his, he was impatient to return to it.