Then the clerk's wife, slipping on her apron--for such folk find the shelter of the apron for their hands necessary in conversation--ran round to the pump room. No one was there as yet, but the two dippers. To them she communicated the news.
Then she went on to the market and told all the people of the town who were chaffering there.
At seven o'clock the captain, walking in his garden, was surprised by the arrival of the horns, who stood before the house and performed a noble flourish. "What the devil is that for?" said the captain. Then there arrived the butchers, with their marrowbones and cleavers, and began to make their music with zeal. The captain went out to them. Up went their hats.
"Her husband--his lordship--married this morning."
"What?" The captain stared in amazement. Then he rushed into the house. Molly was in the kitchen. "What is this?" he asked. "The butchers are here and the horns, and they swear you were married this morning, Molly?"
"Why, captain, I have not been outside the door. I am not married, I assure you, and I begin to think, now, that I never shall be married."
The captain went out and dismissed the musicians. But the thing troubled him, and he was already sick at heart on account of the last night's discourse and its discoveries.
What followed, by invention and design of the pious ecclesiastic, Mr. Purdon, was a villainy even greater than that at first designed--more daring, more cruel.
The bride, accompanied by the minister officiating in the late ceremony, walked back to her lodging. She was still exultant in the first glow and triumph of her revenge. He, on the other hand, walked downcast, stealthily glancing at his companion, his big head moving sideways like the head of a bear, his sallow cheeks paler than was customary. The bridegroom, for his part, flung himself into his chair, and so was carried to the lady's lodging. A strange wedding procession!
She threw off her cloak and her domino, and stood before her newly-made lord, her eyes bright, her face flushed, her lips quivering. She was filled with revenge only half satiated; but revenge can never be wholly satisfied; and she was filled with the triumph of victory.
"I have won!" she said; "you tried to deceive me again, Ludovick. But I have won. You have been caught in your own toils."
