admitted, "I'm not a Catholic."
Karl couldn't believe his ears. He took her by the elbow--it seemed to Anna that her elbow was certainly being over-worked lately--and forced her to look up into is face. "But Anna, you told me you were Catholic. Why did you tell me this?"
"Because you said in your advertisement that you wanted a God-fearing woman."
"Another lie, Anna?" Karl asked, dismayed anew.
"That's not a lie, that's the truth. You said you wanted the truth, so I gave it to you this time. But what does it matter anyway, as long as we're going to be saying our vows ourselves?"
Caught now himself by the half-truth he had let Karl believe, Father Pierrot suffered pangs of remorse. What was he to do? If he witnessed the union, he would be liable for excommunication should his bishop ever learn of it. At this point the priest was wishing that Long Prairie boasted just one justice of the peace, so he could send these two to get themselves legally married without all this confusion.
But the staunch Irish girl looked her betrothed in the eye and kept a stiff upper lip. "Well, if it's still all right with you, Karl, it's all right with me."
This was all too much for Karl. He had spent most of the night carefully reflecting in order to decide it was the right thing to marry Anna. Now another of his delusions about her lay shattered. He was acutely embarrassed to have this newest lie come to light in front of Father Pierrot. Karl found he could not abase himself further by standing there and arguing. And the day was moving on. So much time had been wasted already on this trip, it was folly wasting more, and there were no other churches nearby. But a godless woman! thought the beleaguered Swede. What have I gotten into?
"It does not matter," Karl said tightly, and everyone in the room could see it mattered a great deal. "We will be married as we agreed." He turned to his friend in the black robes.
Father Pierrot hadn't the heart to say, no, Karl, I cannot witness this marriage after all, nor record it in my books. The strength of the vow rests within the heart, he thought, not in witnesses nor penned words. If these two were ready to accept each other, he would not stand in their way.
Anna felt a flood of relief wash over her as the ceremony was agreed upon. Her knees were weak. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. She squeezed her eyes shut and silently promised the man beside her that she'd make it up to him, one way or another.
But Karl's heart was heavy as he stepped to the altar. He had, in his own halting way, achieved his amnesty with her this morning. Peace should be the feeling in a man's heart as he spoke his vows, not this resentment that now lay coldly inside. It is difficult enough to promise love, Karl thought, when the one you promise it to is a stranger. To promise it with such a feeling of foreboding is less than good.
Father had donned his surplice, alb and stole, and the time was at hand.
"James will be our witness," Anna said, wishing to please Karl in some small way. Karl, she could see, was very dissatisfied with her. He avoided her glance, and studied the distance as if ruminating the deepest of thoughts. Also, when he'd last spoken, his voice had become devoid of its usual musicality. It told her in no uncertain terms that he was displeased.
The pair stood so stiff and erect that Father Pierrot felt certain things must be said. He could sense the animosity, which had sprung up so quickly. Karl's mouth was pursed, and Anna stared at the little bouquet of lemon lilies and wild roses at the feet of St. Francis of Assisi .
"Anna," he began, "I speak to you first, and I speak with the hope that you will take to heart everything I say. You are young, Anna. You are taking on a grave responsibility when you marry Karl here. The two of you have a long life ahead of you, and it can be a good life if you work to make it so. But goodness must be built upon mutual respect, and this respect must stem from
Karl couldn't believe his ears. He took her by the elbow--it seemed to Anna that her elbow was certainly being over-worked lately--and forced her to look up into is face. "But Anna, you told me you were Catholic. Why did you tell me this?"
"Because you said in your advertisement that you wanted a God-fearing woman."
"Another lie, Anna?" Karl asked, dismayed anew.
"That's not a lie, that's the truth. You said you wanted the truth, so I gave it to you this time. But what does it matter anyway, as long as we're going to be saying our vows ourselves?"
Caught now himself by the half-truth he had let Karl believe, Father Pierrot suffered pangs of remorse. What was he to do? If he witnessed the union, he would be liable for excommunication should his bishop ever learn of it. At this point the priest was wishing that Long Prairie boasted just one justice of the peace, so he could send these two to get themselves legally married without all this confusion.
But the staunch Irish girl looked her betrothed in the eye and kept a stiff upper lip. "Well, if it's still all right with you, Karl, it's all right with me."
This was all too much for Karl. He had spent most of the night carefully reflecting in order to decide it was the right thing to marry Anna. Now another of his delusions about her lay shattered. He was acutely embarrassed to have this newest lie come to light in front of Father Pierrot. Karl found he could not abase himself further by standing there and arguing. And the day was moving on. So much time had been wasted already on this trip, it was folly wasting more, and there were no other churches nearby. But a godless woman! thought the beleaguered Swede. What have I gotten into?
"It does not matter," Karl said tightly, and everyone in the room could see it mattered a great deal. "We will be married as we agreed." He turned to his friend in the black robes.
Father Pierrot hadn't the heart to say, no, Karl, I cannot witness this marriage after all, nor record it in my books. The strength of the vow rests within the heart, he thought, not in witnesses nor penned words. If these two were ready to accept each other, he would not stand in their way.
Anna felt a flood of relief wash over her as the ceremony was agreed upon. Her knees were weak. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. She squeezed her eyes shut and silently promised the man beside her that she'd make it up to him, one way or another.
But Karl's heart was heavy as he stepped to the altar. He had, in his own halting way, achieved his amnesty with her this morning. Peace should be the feeling in a man's heart as he spoke his vows, not this resentment that now lay coldly inside. It is difficult enough to promise love, Karl thought, when the one you promise it to is a stranger. To promise it with such a feeling of foreboding is less than good.
Father had donned his surplice, alb and stole, and the time was at hand.
"James will be our witness," Anna said, wishing to please Karl in some small way. Karl, she could see, was very dissatisfied with her. He avoided her glance, and studied the distance as if ruminating the deepest of thoughts. Also, when he'd last spoken, his voice had become devoid of its usual musicality. It told her in no uncertain terms that he was displeased.
The pair stood so stiff and erect that Father Pierrot felt certain things must be said. He could sense the animosity, which had sprung up so quickly. Karl's mouth was pursed, and Anna stared at the little bouquet of lemon lilies and wild roses at the feet of St. Francis of Assisi .
"Anna," he began, "I speak to you first, and I speak with the hope that you will take to heart everything I say. You are young, Anna. You are taking on a grave responsibility when you marry Karl here. The two of you have a long life ahead of you, and it can be a good life if you work to make it so. But goodness must be built upon mutual respect, and this respect must stem from
Similar Books
