, happy, or sad, or
indifferent. Quite against his set resolve and the tide of his feelings,
Richard found himself standing behind Clare in the church--the very
edifice that had witnessed his own marriage, and heard, "I, Clare Doria,
take thee John Pemberton," clearly pronounced. He stood with black brows
dissecting the arts of the tailor and hairdresser on unconscious John.
The back, and much of the middle, of Mr. Todhunter's head was bald; the
back shone like an egg-shell, but across the middle the artist had drawn
two long dabs of hair from the sides, and plastered them cunningly, so
that all save wilful eyes would have acknowledged the head to be covered.
The man's only pretension was to a respectable juvenility. He had a good
chest, stout limbs, a face inclined to be jolly. Mrs. Doria had no cause
to be put out of countenance at all by the exterior of her son-in-law:
nor was she. Her splendid hair and gratified smile made a light in the
church. Playing puppets must be an immense pleasure to the practical
animal. The Forey bridesmaids, five in number, and one Miss Doria, their
cousin, stood as girls do stand at these sacrifices, whether happy, sad,
or indifferent; a smile on their lips and tears in attendance. Old Mrs.
Todhunter, an exceedingly small ancient woman, was also there. "I can't
have my boy John married without seeing it done," she said, and
throughout the ceremony she was muttering audible encomiums on her John's
manly behaviour.

The ring was affixed to Clare's finger; there was no ring lost in this
common-sense marriage. The instant the clergyman bade him employ it, John
drew the ring out, and dropped it on the finger of the cold passive hand
in a businesslike way, as one who had studied the matter. Mrs. Doria
glanced aside at Richard. Richard observed Clare spread out her fingers
that the operation might be the more easily effected.

He did duty in the vestry a few minutes, and then said to his aunt:

"Now I'll go."

"You'll come to the breakfast, child? The Foreys"--

He cut her short. "I've stood for the family, and I'll do no more. I
won't pretend to eat and make merry over it."

"Richard!"

"Good-bye."

She had attained her object and she wisely gave way.

"Well. Go and kiss Clare, and shake his hand. Pray, pray be civil."

She turned to Adrian, and said: "He is going. You must go with him, and
find some means of keeping him, or he'll be running off to that woman.
Now, no words--go!"