had grown strong and steady.

"For better for worse."

"'For better for worse.'"

"For richer for poorer," droned the clergyman, with the weariness of
uncounted repetitions.

"'For richer for poorer,'" avowed the bridegroom, with the decisive
emphasis of one to whom the words are new and significant.

"In sickness and in health."

"'In sickness and in health.'"

"To love and to cherish."

"'To love and to cherish.'" The younger voice carried infinite
tenderness now.

"Till death us do part."

"'Till death us do part,'" repeated the bridegroom's lips; but everybody
knew that what his heart said was: "Now, and through all eternity."

"According to God's holy ordinance."

"'According to God's holy ordinance.'"

"And thereto I plight thee my troth."

"'And thereto I plight thee my troth.'"

There was a faint stir in the room. In one corner a white-haired woman
blinked tear-wet eyes and pulled a fleecy white shawl more closely about
her shoulders. Then the minister's voice sounded again.

"I, Billy, take thee, Bertram."

"'I, Billy, take thee, Bertram.'"

This time the echoing voice was a feminine one, low and sweet, but
clearly distinct, and vibrant with joyous confidence, on through one
after another of the ever familiar, but ever impressive phrases of the
service that gives into the hands of one man and of one woman the future
happiness, each of the other.

The wedding was at noon. That evening Mrs. Kate Hartwell, sister of the
bridegroom, wrote the following letter:

BOSTON, July 15th.

"MY DEAR HUSBAND:--Well, it's all over with, and they're married. I
couldn't do one thing to prevent it. Much as ever as they would even
listen to what I had to say--and when they knew how I had hurried East
to say it, too, with only two hours' notice!

"But then, what can you expect? From time immemorial lovers never
did have any sense; and when those lovers are such irresponsible
flutterbudgets as Billy and Bertram--!

"And such a wedding! I couldn't do anything with _that_, either, though
I tried hard. They had it in Billy's living-room at noon, with nothing
but the sun for light. There was no maid of honor, no bridesmaids, no
wedding cake, no wedding veil, no presents (except from the family, and
from that ridiculous Chinese cook of brother William's, Ding Dong, or
whatever his name is. He tore in just before the wedding ceremony, and
insisted upon seeing Billy to give her a wretched little green st