e. They stood in groups near the door, waiting
to follow the bride to her place at the altar.

Mrs. Bell turned her flushed face; looked down the church, and nodded to
her girls. She thought she had never seen anything so heavenly as the
vision of her Matty in her bride's-maid's costume. Her heart swelled so
with exultation, that she could not help confiding some of her feelings
to Mrs. Butler.

"Pooh, you're a goose!" nodded back this good woman. But a slow smile
stole over her face as she said the words.

The moments flew on. The organist took his place at the organ, the choir
boys filed into their places.

At the end of the church the bride's-maids looked nervously around. Had
any one listened very attentively they might have heard Matty Bell's
titter.

A thrill went through the waiting crowds. The bridegroom had appeared;
he was accompanied by a strange youth, a young officer from his
regiment. He walked slowly up the church, and took his place before the
altar.

Bertram looked so handsome at this moment, so pale, so dignified, that
every woman in the church fell in love with him. Miss Peters sighed
audibly, and even shed a tear for the memory of that Sam, who had never
proposed for her, but had been attentive, and had died thirty years ago.

Matty Bell felt quite a little tumult in her heart. No, no, whatever her
mother might say her Bayard was not like Beatrice's Bayard. She did not
even want to look at her Gusty this moment.

Bertram stood before the altar and waited.

_The bride!_

There was a little buzz through the church. All the occupants of the
pews rose; all heads were turned towards the door. In the excitement of
the moment the Beatricites clasped the Hartites by the hands, Mrs.
Bell's fat fingers rested on Mrs. Butler's shoulder.

The bride! She had come. Beatrice would marry Loftus Bertram. The
Beatricites would conquer. Slander would die.

No, no. What was the matter? What was wrong? Was anything wrong?

A girl dressed in shimmering bridal clothes was walking up the church.
A very slender and very pale girl. She was leaning on Mr. Ingram's arm;
she was beautiful. There was an expression on her face which melted
hearts, and made eyes brim over with tears. A bride was coming up the
church--not Beatrice Meadowsweet--not the girl who was beloved by all
the town.

Close behind the bride followed the principal bride's-maid. She was in a
plain dress of white. Round her head she wore a wreath