Part 63 (1/2)

”And John Anderson, too,” said Marjorie, ”I cannot believe it.”

”When the truth is known, I am of the opinion that he will be more pitied and less condemned. Arnold was the chief actor. Andre a mere p.a.w.n.”

”How brilliant he was! You remember his visits? The afternoon at the piano?”

”Yes. He was talented. But to what purpose?”

”I am sorry.”

And so were the many.

CHAPTER VII

I

”Stephen, wilt thou take Marjorie here present for thy lawful wife, according to the rite of our Holy Mother, the Church?”

Audibly and distinctly resounded the voice of Father Farmer throughout the little church as he read from the Roman Ritual the form of the sacrament of Matrimony.

”I will,” answered Stephen deliberately.

”Marjorie, wilt thou take Stephen here present for thy lawful husband, according to the rite of our Holy Mother, the Church?”

”I will,” was the soft response.

The two then joined their right hands and repeated one after the other the pledge by which they took each other for man and wife; Stephen first, then Marjorie.

”I, Stephen, take thee Marjorie for my lawful wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better; for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part.”

Solemnly and reverently the priest raised his right hand over them as he p.r.o.nounced the blessing.

”Ego conjungo vos in matrimonium, in nomine Patris et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti, Amen.”

The ring having been blessed before them, Stephen placed it on Marjorie's finger saying the prescribed words, after which they awaited the prayers of the priest. Father Farmer turned to the altar and at once began the Nuptial Ma.s.s, according to the ceremony of the Catholic Church, and p.r.o.nounced over them the Nuptial Blessing.

This made an end of the marriage ceremony.

It would be difficult to describe the feelings of Marjorie as she turned from the sanctuary and made her way down the aisle of the little church.

Her hand lay on Stephen's arm, but it seemed to her as if she were hanging from it. She was happy; that, of course. But she thought, too, that she was extremely nervous, and the more she thought over herself, the more she felt that she appeared extremely self-conscious.

The church was quite filled with friends, yet she dared not look up to measure its capacity, but guarded her eyes with the strictest custody.

The organ was playing an appropriate march which she tried to follow in her mind in order that she might thereby absorb the greater part of her attention. Stephen was with her, for she could feel him, although she was quite certain that she never laid an eye on him during the whole time. Her people were there, so were her many friends and acquaintances, and Stephen's relatives and friends as well, but these, too, were absent as far as her concentration of mind was concerned. Only one thought was uppermost in her mind and that was to leave the church as soon as possible, for she felt that every eye was focused upon her.

It had been intended that the affair should be charmingly simple, both on account of the sad and melancholy days through which the country was pa.s.sing and the natural tendencies of the parties concerned to avoid all semblance of display. Their names had been published at three public ma.s.ses; the Catholic Church required that. They had been married by Father Farmer with a nuptial high ma.s.s. The wedding breakfast would be served at the home of the bride. But the number of invited guests would be limited strictly to the members of the family and one or two intimate friends so as to include Jim Cadwalader and Sergeant Griffin.

Furthermore there would be no honeymoon on account of the uncertainty which invariably had defined the duration of Stephen's stay in the city.

It was only when the little party, Marjorie and Stephen's sister, her maid of honor, and Stephen and Sergeant Griffin, his best man, had settled down into the coach, that Marjorie for the first time became composed. A great sigh of relief escaped from her as she sat back, her bouquet in her hand, and looked at the dispersing crowd. She could not tell yet whether she was happy or not; the excitement had not subsided enough to allow her to regain her self-possession and equanimity.