The Captive Bride by Gilbert Morris Page A

couple.
    Lydia was stunned. The silence that followed seemed to roar in her ears as she became conscious of the stares burning into her from all sides. Her lips parted and she wondered if she had heard him correctly. Surely no man would be so forward as to propose to a young woman under such circumstances!
    But apparently Matthew Winslow was exactly such a man, for he seemed totally unaware of the gaping audience, and said again, “Lydia, I love you and want you to marry me!”
    She stared at him, her face flushed, tears of vexation filling her eyes. “No!” she snapped indignantly, and with a suddenness that caught everyone off guard, she rose and rushed out of the church, leaving Matthew staring into the angry eyes of her enraged aunt.
    Turning from the irate woman, and without a glance at either preacher or congregation, he dashed out, his heels drumming rapidly on the wood floor.
    As the door slammed behind Matthew, Pastor Bunyan looked with startled eyes at his congregation, took a deep breath and then continued as though nothing had happened. “Hell,” he stated firmly, “was created for the devil and his angels—not for men!” He cast one furtive look at the doorwhere the pair had escaped and added enigmatically, “God made other things for men—such as marriage.” But his attempt to recapture the attention of his flock was hopeless.
    Outside, Lydia ran along the narrow street, crying with humiliation, stumbling over the cobblestones. As she turned the corner onto the lane where she lived with her aunt, strong hands grabbed her from behind.
    â€œLet me go!” she cried, trying to free herself from the iron embrace. “I hate you, Matthew Winslow!”
    But he just stood there holding her as she beat her fists against his chest, tears running down her cheeks. Finally she stopped and, in a gesture of surrender and helplessness, fell against his broad chest, moaning, “What will I do? What will I do?”
    Placing his hand under her chin, he drew her face upward. She had never seemed so beautiful to him.
    â€œWhy did you do such a thing to me?” she cried.
    Pulling her close, he said passionately, “Because I love you! And I’ll have you, Lydia, or die in the attempt!”
    She gasped at his boldness, but had no time to do anything else, for he suddenly bent his head and kissed her intensely. Then as his kisses grew gentle, she found her arms going around his neck. How long they stood there or who drew back first she never knew, but when they looked at each other in breathless wonder, she whispered, “I love you, Matthew Winslow! I’ll never love anyone else!”
    She took a deep breath and released it. One hand went up to touch his cheek tenderly; then she smiled with trembling lips and murmured, “I never knew love could be like this.”
    â€œNor I,” Matthew responded quietly. “But it’s only the beginning, sweetheart!” he said triumphantly. “Only the beginning! Why, we’ve got a whole lifetime to love each other!”
    Then she said something that startled him, so unexpected it was. “And we can love God together, can’t we, Matthew?”
    He thought at once of Bunyan’s comment: She will not be happy with a man who is less of a Christian than she is. He might have given thought to that if he had not been so in love, but he merely smiled and said, “Yes, of course we will!”
    They turned and walked back toward the church with a choir of small birds singing an echo of the joy that had filled their hearts.

CHAPTER FOUR
    HE THAT FINDETH A WIFE ...
    Edward Winslow felt the weight of his years as he climbed heavily out of the dusty coach in front of the Mote Hall. He moved stiffly down the narrow lane that led to Pastor Gifford’s cottage, speaking briefly to those who greeted him. The brilliant May sunshine painted the thatched roofs of the village with gold, but he had no eye