"Yes, sah, an' in all ob 'em," the man replied.

"Come, my dear," the father said, taking the white fur cloak from the waiting woman and wrapping it carefully around his daughter before leading her out.

Col. Anglesea gave his arm to Mrs. Force, and Le to Miss Meeke, while the two little girls followed arm in arm.

Three carriages were drawn up before the house.

The bride-elect, with her father and mother, occupied the first; the two young bridesmaids, with their governess, the second; and the bridegroom, with his groomsman, the third.

And in this order they left the house and took the road leading to All Faith Church.

It was a clear, cold, bright winter day. Their road went through bare woods, up and down rolling hills, and across frozen creeks.

In the foremost carriage Odalite sat wrapped, as to her person, in manifold white furs; as to her spirit, in a dreamy reverie.

"Are you cold, dear?" her father inquired, anxiously.

"No, papa."

"Are you not feeling well?"

"Oh, yes, papa."

"You are so very quiet," Mr. Force said.

"That is natural. Let us leave her to herself, dear," Mrs. Force murmured, in a low tone.

An hour's slow drive over difficult roads brought them near All Faith Church, an ancient edifice standing in a large grove.

As they approached they found the road on each side enc.u.mbered by a moving mult.i.tude, all going in one direction, and growing thicker the nearer they came to the church. These were driving, riding, or walking. There were carriages of every description of gentility or of shabbiness; there were horses and mules, donkey carts and ox carts, all crowded with eager spectators, and there were many foot pa.s.sengers.

"Surely you never invited all these people?" said Mr. Force, in dismay.

"I have not invited more than thirty; and these all have cards; but people do not need invitations; there is nothing on earth to prevent them from coming here and crowding the roads and the churchyard," Mrs. Force explained.

At this moment some ill-advised person raised a cheer, and the mult.i.tude took it up and cheered the bridal procession until the welkin rang with their roaring.

"Hip! hip!! hurrah!!!"

In the midst of all this the three carriages entered the yard and drew up before the church.

The parties alighted.

The father took his daughter on his arm and led her into the building, which was well warmed.

There, in the vestibule, he relieved her of her fur cloak, while her two little sisters, who were close behind, let down her train and smoothed the folds of her dress.

The style of the little country church did not admit of much display of pageantry.

The altar and the walls were decorated with evergreens and holly. That was all.

Mr. Force led his daughter up the aisle, followed first by the two little bridesmaids, and next by the other members of the party without much regard to precedence.

The rector, in full canonicals, stood within the chancel.

The bridal train, formed before the altar, bowed to the rector, and knelt on the cushions.

The crowd, with which the church was filled, arose in ma.s.s and stretched their necks to get sight of the proceedings.

The rector opened the book, and began the well-known ritual:

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here, in the sight of G.o.d and in the face of this company, to join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony," and so forth.

When the minister concluded the exordium by the solemn warning:

"'If any man can show just cause why they may not lawfully be joined together, let him now speak.'"

In the pause that now followed Elva looked imploringly toward Le.

But Le kept silence, looking as grim as the Sphinx. Apparently he saw no just cause to interfere; nor, apparently, did any one else.

The ceremony went on to the question put to bridegroom and bride, and which was answered by the former with a firm, distinct--

"I will."

And the latter with a steady, quiet--

"I will."

"'Who giveth this woman to be married to this man?'" demanded the minister.

Mr. Force stepped forward, took the hand of his daughter and placed it within that of the bridegroom, almost shuddering with a vague presentiment of evil, when he felt, even through her kid glove, how deadly cold and heavy that little hand was!

And the rites went on, and on, and on, and nothing happened to arrest them--no thunderbolt from heaven descended from the wintry sky to scatter the bridal party--no earthquake caused the ground to yawn and swallow them.

The rites went on, and on, and on, to their bitter end, where the voice of the officiating minister, a.s.suming awful solemnity, concludes the ceremony with these warning words:

"'Those whom G.o.d hath joined together let not man put asunder.'"

"Yes!" shouted a voice, at which every one started, and the bridegroom grew pale. "Yes! That may be all very well as far as it goes! 'Whom G.o.d has joined together, let not man put asunder' by no manner of means whatever! But them as the devil has joined together a woman may put asunder, and she will, too, in double-quick time!"

This shocking interruption came from a short, stout, dark, but very handsome, and very well-dressed person, who, in great excitement, was elbowing and pushing her way up the center aisle toward the chancel at which the startled and affrighted bridal party stood.

CHAPTER XXI

A ROUTED WEDDING PARTY