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Chapter 32

How fair these names, how much unlike they look
To all the blurr'd subscriptions in my book!
The bridegroom's letters stand in row above,
Tapering, yet straight, like pine-trees in his grove;
While free and fine the bride's appear below,
As light and slender as her jessamines grow.


ST. JUDE's day came, the term assigned by Lucy herself as the furthest
date of expectation, and, as we have already said, there were neither
letters from nor news of Ravenswood. But there were news of Bucklaw, and
of his trusty associate Craigengelt, who arrived early in the morning
for the completion of the proposed espousals, and for signing the
necessary deeds.

These had been carefully prepared under the revisal of Sir William
Ashton himself, it having been resolved, on account of the state of Miss
Ashton's health, as it was said, that none save the parties immediately
interested should be present when the parchments were subscribed. It
was further determined that the marriage should be solemnised upon the
fourth day after signing the articles, a measure adopted by Lady Ashton,
in order that Lucy might have as little time as possible to recede or
relapse into intractability. There was no appearance, however, of
her doing either. She heard the proposed arrangement with the calm
indifference of despair, or rather with an apathy arising from the
oppressed and stupified state of her feelings. To an eye so unobserving
as that of Bucklaw, her demeanour had little more of reluctance than
might suit the character of a bashful young lady, who, however, he could
not disguise from himself, was complying with the choice of her friends
rather than exercising any personal predilection in his favour.

When the morning compliment of the bridegroom had been paid, Miss Ashton
was left for some time to herself; her mother remarking, that the deeds
must be signed before the hour of noon, in order that the marriage might
be happy. Lucy suffered herself to be attired for the occasion as the
taste of her attendants suggested, and was of course splendidly arrayed.
Her dress was composed of white satin and Brussels lace, and her
hair arranged with a profusion of jewels, whose lustre made a strange
contrast to the deadly paleness of her complexion, and to the trouble
which dwelt in her unsettled eye.

Her toilette was hardly finished ere Henry appeared, to conduct the
passive bride to the state apartment, where all was prepared for signing
the contract. "Do you know, sister," he said, "I am glad you are to
have Bucklaw after all, instead of Ravenswood, who looked like a Spanish
grandee come to cute our throats and trample our bodies under foot.
And I am glad the broad seas are between us this day, for I shall never
forget how frightened I was when I took him for the picture of old Sir
Malise walked out of the canvas. Tell me true, are you not glad to be
fairly shot of him?"

"Ask me no questions, dear Henry," said his unfortunate sister; "there
is little more can happen to make me either glad or sorry in this

"And that's what all young brides say," said Henry; "and so do not be
cast down, Lucy, for you'll tell another tale a twelvemonth hence; and I
am to be bride's-man, and ride before you to the kirk; and all our kith,
kin, and allies, and all Bucklaw's, are to be mounted and in order; and
I am to have a scarlet laced coat, and a feathered hat, and a swordbelt,
double bordered with gold, and point d'Espagne, and a dagger instead of
a sword; and I should like a sword much better, but my father won't
hear of it. All my things, and a hundred besides, are to come out from
Edinburgh to-night with old Gilbert and the sumpter mules; and I will
bring them and show them to you the instant they come."

The boy's chatter was here interrupted by the arrival of Lady Ashton,
somewhat alarmed at her daughter's stay. With one of her sweetest
smiles, she took Lucy's arm under her own.

There were only present, Sir William Ashton and Colonel Douglas Ashton,
the last in full regimentals; Bucklaw, in bridegroom trim; Craigengelt,
freshly equipt from top to toe by the bounty of his patron, and
bedizened with as much lace as might have become the dress of the Copper
Captain; together with the Rev. Mr. Bide-the-Bent; the presence of
a minister being, in strict Presbyterian families, an indispensable
requisite upon all occasions of unusual solemnity.

Wines and refreshments were placed on a table, on which the writings
were displayed, ready for signature.

But before proceeding either to business or refreshment, Mr.
Bide-the-Bent, at a signal from Sir William Ashton, invited the company
to join him in a short extemporary prayer, in which he implored a
blessing upon the contract now to be solemnised between the honourable
parties then present. With the simplicity of his times and profession,
which permitted strong personal allusions, he petitioned that the
wounded mind of one of these noble parties might be healed, in reward
of her compliance with the advice of her right honourable parents; and
that, as she had proved herself a child after God's commandment, by
honouring her father and mother, she and hers might enjoy the promised
blessing--length of days in the land here, and a happy portion hereafter
in a better country. He prayed farther, that the bridegroom might
be weaned from those follies which seduced youth from the path of
knowledge; that he might cease to take delight in vain and unprofitable
company, scoffers, rioters, and those who sit late at the wine (here
Bucklaw winked at Craigengelt), and cease from the society that causeth
to err. A suitable supplication in behalf of Sir William and Lady Ashton
and their family concluded this religious address, which thus embraced
every individual present excepting Craigengelt, whom the worthy divine
probably considered as past all hopes of grace.

The business of the day now went forward: Sir William Ashton signed
the contract with legal solemnity and precision; his son, with military
nonchalance; and Bucklaw, having subscribed as rapidly as Craigengelt
could manage to turn the leaves, concluded by wiping his pen on that
worthy's new laced cravat. It was now Miss Ashton's turn to sign the
writings, and she was guided by her watchful mother to the table for
that purpose. At her first attempt, she began to write with a dry pen,
and when the circumstance was pointed out, seemed unable, after several
attempts, to dip it in the massive silver ink-standish, which stood full
before her. Lady Ashton's vigilance hastened to supply the deficiency. I
have myself seen the fatal deed, and in the distinct characters in which
the name of Lucy Ashton is traced on each page there is only a very
slight tremulous irregularity, indicative of her state of mind at the
time of the subscription. But the last signature is incomplete, defaced,
and blotted; for, while her hand was employed in tracing it, the hasty
tramp of a horse was heard at the gate, succeeded by a step in the
outer gallery, and a voice which, in a commanding tone, bore down the
opposition of the menials. The pen dropped from Lucy's fingers, as she
exclaimed with a faint shriek: "He is come--he is come!"

Sir Walter Scott