your name, Mr. Chiltern," he said, "and it is
a pleasure to be able to serve you, and the lady who is so shortly to
be your wife. Your servant arrived with your note at four o'clock. Ten
minutes later, and I should have missed him."

And then Honora heard Chiltern saying somewhat coldly:--"In order to
save time, Mr. White, I wish to tell you that Mrs. Leffingwell has been
divorced--"

The Reverend Mr. White put up a hand before him, and looked down at the
carpet, as one who would not dwell upon painful things.

"Unfortunate--ahem--mistakes will occur in life, Mr. Chiltern--in the
best of lives," he replied. "Say no more about it. I am sure, looking at
you both--"

"Very well then," said Chiltern brusquely, "I knew you would have to
know. And here," he added, "is an essential paper."

A few minutes later, in continuation of the same strange dream,
Honora was standing at Chiltern's side and the Reverend Mr. White was
addressing them: What he said--apart of it at least--seemed curiously
familiar. Chiltern put a ring on a finger of her ungloved hand. It was a
supreme moment in her destiny--this she knew. Between her responses she
repeated it to herself, but the mighty fact refused to be registered.
And then, suddenly, rang out the words:

"Those whom God hath joined together let no man Put asunder."

Those whom God hath joined together! Mr. White was congratulating
her. Other people were in the room--the minister's son, his wife, his
brother-in-law. She was in the street again, in the automobile,
without knowing how she got there, and Chiltern close beside her in the
limousine.

"My wife!" he whispered.

Was she? Could it be true, be lasting, be binding for ever and ever? Her
hand pressed his convulsively.

"Oh, Hugh!" she cried, "care for me--stay by me forever. Will you
promise?"

"I promise, Honora," he repeated. "Henceforth we are one."

Honora would have prolonged forever that honeymoon on summer seas. In
those blissful days she was content to sit by the hour watching him as,
bareheaded in the damp salt breeze, he sailed the great schooner and
gave sharp orders to the crew. He was a man who would be obeyed, and
even his flashes of temper pleased her. He was her master, too, and she
gloried in the fact. By the aid of the precious light within her, she
studied him.

He loved her mightily, fiercely, but withal tenderly. With her alone he
was infinitely tender, and it seemed that something in him cried