the father with the lady of his
name halts at the archway, stepping to one side that the ushers and
bridesmaids may move on to the altar, which they encircle right and
left; Ray, pale and white, but with eager light in his handsome dark
eyes, steps quickly down, with Blake close at his heels, and bowing low,
meets his fair bride at the arch, then turns and faces the two
white-robed clergymen who come forward from the chancel, leaving the
venerable bishop at the holy altar. The swelling hymn has ceased, and in
its place low, sweet, witching strains of music float through the
vaulted sanctuary; a hush as of intense expectation falls upon the
listening throng, and the deep voice of the rector is heard in the
solemn opening exhortation,--"Reverently, discreetly, advisedly,
soberly, and in the fear of God." _Is_ it fancy? or, as that
never-answered challenge comes: "If any man can show just cause why they
may not lawfully be joined together?" _does_ Ray throw back his head
with something of that same old semi-defiant gesture that as much as
pays it wouldn't be a safe thing for any man to try? And then another
voice is heard, feeble, tremulous with years, ay, with deep emotion; it
is that of the revered old soldier of the Cross, whose lips long years
before propounded the same solemn query to her sainted mother; who
under that same roof received this child, a smiling baby-girl, into the
congregation of Christ's flock, and signed her with the sign of the
cross; who led her, a sweet maiden, to the altar there beyond to renew
the solemn promise and vow that was there made in her name; from whose
hands she had on bended knee so often received the consecrated elements;
whose aging accents had trembled in grief and sympathy even as they
uttered the words of solace, "Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord,"
and whose consolation was sweetest to her in the bitter days when that
blessed mother died. No wonder Ray can feel that she is trembling from
head to foot, and that his "I will" is firm and strong as he looks
squarely into the eyes of the venerable priest and honors him for the
gathering tears he sees there; no wonder his own turn proudly, fondly,
down on her as her soft hand is placed in his nervous palm, and Blake
sets his teeth to repel the gasp of delight with which he hears the
clear-cut enunciation of every word of his solemn troth. For the life of
him he cannot help thinking how many a time he has heard that voice in
the