He had a surprise for me.

"We'll have a honeymoon. You won't want to go straight back to Giza House."

"That," I said, "is immaterial to me. All I ask is that I am with you."

He turned to face me and with an unusually tender gesture took my face in his hands. "Judith," he said, "don't expect too much of me."

I laughed aloud--I was so happy. "Why I expect everything of you."

"That's what makes me uneasy. You see, I am rather selfish, not admirable in the least. And I am a man with an obsession."

"I share in that obsession," I told him with a laugh. "And I have another. You."

He held me against him. "You make me afraid," he said.

"You afraid? You are not afraid of anything ... or anyone."

"I'm certainly afraid of this high opinion you have of me. Where could you possibly have got it?"

"You gave it to me."

"You are too imaginative, Judith. You get an idea and it's usually something you want it to be and then you make everything fit into that."

"It's the way to live. I shall teach you to live that way."

"It's better to see the truth."

"I will make this my truth."

"I can see it is useless to warn you not to think too highly of me."

"It is quite useless."

"Time will have to teach you."

"I said we will grow closer together as the years pass. We shall share everything. I never thought it was possible to be so happy as I am at this moment."

"At least you will have had this moment."

"What a way to talk! This is nothing to what it is going to be like."

"My darling Judith, there is no one like you."

"Of course there isn't! I am myself. Reckless, impulsive, the aunts would tell you. Bossy, Sabina and Theodosia will agree and Hadrian will confirm that. They are the ones who have known me the longest. So you must not have too high an opinion of me."

"I'm glad there are these little faults. I shall love you for them as I hope you will love me for mine."

I said: "We are going to be so happy."

"I came to tell you about our honeymoon. I'm going to take you to Dorset. They are so excited about this discovery. I long to show it to you."

I said that was wonderful; but it did occur to me that there would no doubt be a great many people there and a honeymoon on our own might have been more appropriate.

But Tybalt would be there—and that was all I asked.

There was so much to do in preparation even for a "discreet" wedding, including sessions in Sarah Sloper's cottage which seemed to go on for hours. There was I in my white satin wedding gown with Sarah kneeling at my feet, her mouth full of pins, and as soon as she had it free she would talk all the time.

"Well, fancy it coming to this. You, Miss Judith . . . and him. He was for Miss Theodosia, you know, and she gets the little professor and you get him."

"You make it sound as though it's some sort of lottery, Sarah."

"They do say marriage be a lottery, Miss Judith. And you being Sir Ralph's girl and all. I always guessed that. Why he had a real fancy for you. And Miss Lavinia. Pretty as a picture she were but I'd say you took more after Sir Ralph."

"Thank you, Sarah."

"Oh, I weren't meaning it that way, Miss Judith. You'll look pretty enough in your bride's dress. Brides always do. That's why there's nothing I like making better. And is it to be orange blossom? I reckon there's nothing like orange blossom for brides. I had it myself when I married Sloper. That's going back a bit. And I've still got it. Put away in a drawer it be. I look at it now and then and think of the old days. You'll be able to do that, Miss Judith. It's a pleasant thing to do when things don't turn out just as you'd fancied. And don't we all have fancies eh, on our wedding days?"

"I look on it as a beginning of happiness not a climax."

"Oh, you and your talk. Always was one for it. But as I say it's nice to have a wedding day to look back on—as long as it don't make you fretful." She sighed and went on fervently: "I hope you'll be happy, Miss Judith. Well, we can but hope. So let's pray the sun'll shine on your wedding day. They do say 'Happy be the bride the sun shines on.'"

I laughed; but this assumption that my marriage would be a perilous adventure was beginning to irritate me.

On a rather misty October day I was married to Tybalt in the church I knew so well. Oddly enough as I came down the aisle on the arm of Dr. Gunwen, who had offered to "give me away," there being no one else to perform this necessary duty, I was thinking of how my knees used to get sore from kneeling on the mats which hung inside the pews for that purpose. An extraordinary thought to have when I was on my way to marriage with Tybalt!

A fellow archaeologist and friend of Tybalt's was his best man. He was named Terence Gelding and was accompanying us to Egypt. On the night before the wedding I had not seen Tybalt. He had gone to the station to meet his friend and bring him back to Giza House where he was spending a few days. Tabitha told me on my wedding morning that they had all stayed up too late talking. I felt that vague tinge of jealousy which I had begun to notice came to me when others shared an intimacy with Tybalt and I was not present. It was foolish of me but I supposed I had dreamed so long of this happening that I could not entirely believe that it was true; there had been covert remarks about my marriage from several directions and it seemed that these insinuations had penetrated even my natural optimism. I could not help feeling a twinge of uneasiness and distrust of this sudden granting by fate of my most cherished desire.

But as I made my vows before Oliver, and Tybalt put the ring on my finger, a wonderful happiness surged over me and I was more completely happy than I had ever been.

It was disappointing that as we came into the porch the rain should begin to pelt down.

"You can't walk out in that," said Dorcas at my elbow.

"It's nothing," I said. "Just a shower and we only have to go over to the rectory."

"We'll have to wait."

She was right, of course. So we stood there, I still holding Tybalt's hand saying nothing, staring out at the rain and thinking: I'm really married ... to Tybalt!

I heard the whispers behind me.

"What a pity!"

"What bad luck!"

"Not wedding weather by any means."

A gnome-like creature came walking up from the graveyard. As it approached I saw that it was Mr. Pegger, bent double with a sack, split down one side, over his head to keep him dry. He carried a spade to which the brown earth still clung. So he had been digging somebody's grave, and was, I supposed, coming to the porch for shelter until the downpour was over.

When he saw us he pulled up short; he pushed the sack farther back and his fanatical eyes took in Tybalt and me in our wedding clothes.

He looked straight at me. "No good'ull come of such indecent haste," he said. "It's ungodly."

Then he nodded and walked past the porch with the self-righteous air of one determined to do his duty however unpleasant.

"Who on earth is that old fool?" said Tybalt.

"It's Mr. Pegger, the gravedigger."

"He's impertinent."

"Well, you see he knew me as a child and no doubt thinks I'm still one."

"He objects to your marriage."

I heard Theodosia whisper: "Oh, Evan, how unpleasant. It's like an ... omen."

I did not answer. I felt suddenly angry with all these people who for some ridiculous reason had decided that there was something strange about my marriage to Tybalt.  

I looked up at the lowering sky and I seemed to hear Sarah Sloper's reedy voice: "Happy be the bride the sun shines on."

After a few minutes the rain stopped and we were able to pick our way across the grass to the vicarage.

There was the familiar drawing room decked out with chrysanthemums of all shades and starry Michaelmas daisies. A table had been set up at one end of the room and on this was a wedding cake and champagne.

I cut the cake with Tybalt's help; everyone applauded and the unpleasant incident in the porch was temporarily forgotten.

Hadrian made a witty speech and Tybalt responded very briefly. I kept saying to myself: "This is the supreme moment of my life." Perhaps I said it a little too vehemently. I could not forget Mr. Pegger's eyes peering at us in that fanatical way from under that absurd sack. The rain had started again in a heavy downpour which made itself heard.

Theodosia was beside me. "Oh, Judith," she said, "I'm so glad we're sisters. Here you are marrying Tybalt and this is what they wanted for me. So Father got his wish that his daughter marry Tybalt. Hasn't it turned out wonderfully?" She was gazing across the room at Evan who was talking to Tabitha. "I'm so grateful to you . . ."

"Grateful . . . ?"

She floundered a little. Theodosia had never been able to express her thoughts gracefully and often landed in a conversational morass from which she found it difficult to extricate herself.

"Well, for marrying Tybalt and making it all come right so that I need not have any conscience about not pleasing Father ... and all that."

She made it sound as though by marrying Tybalt I had conferred some blessing on all those who had been saved from him!

"I'm sure you'll be very happy," she said comfortingly. "You always knew so much about archaeology. It's a struggle for me to keep up with Evan, but he says don't worry. He's perfectly satisfied with me as I am."