the hour of nine
`` Rouse thee , my gentle one , '' she said , tenderly , as she twined her arm caressingly around her ; `` I may not let thee linger longer even here , for time passes only too quickly , and I shall have but little time to attire my beautiful bride for the altar . Nigel hath been telling such a tale of woman 's love , that my good lord hath vowed , despite his weakness and his wounds , none else shall lead thee to the altar , and give thee to my brother , save himself . I knew that not even Nigel 's influence would bid thee leave us , dearest , '' she continued , as Agnes hid her face in her bosom , `` but I dreamed not such a spirit dwelt within this childlike heart , sweet one ; thy lot must surely be for joy ! '' It was something past the hour of nine , when Agnes , leaning on the arm of Sir Christopher Seaton , and followed by Lady Seaton and two young girls , their attendants , entered the church , and walked , with an unfaltering step and firm though modest mien , up to the altar , beside which Nigel already stood . She was robed entirely in white , without the smallest ornament save the emerald clasp which secured , and the beautiful pearl embroidery which adorned her girdle . Her mantle was of white silk , its little hood thrown back , disclosing a rich lining of the white fox fur . Lady Seaton had simply arranged her hair in its own beautiful curls , and not a flower or gem peeped through them ; a silver bodkin secured the veil , which was just sufficiently transparent to permit her betrothed to look upon her features , and feel that , pale and still as they were , they evinced no change in her generous purpose .