They were all three there at last--Sir Frank looking decidedly vexed and
cross, Lord Chandos happy as the day was long, and Leone beautiful as a
picture.

"Look," said the young lordling to his friend, "have I no excuse?"

Sir Frank looked long and earnestly at the beautiful southern face.

"Yes," he replied; "so far as beauty and grace can form an excuse, you
have one; but, Lance, if I loved that girl a thousand times better than
my life, I should not marry her."

"Why?" asked Lord Chandos, with a laugh.

"Because she has a tragedy in her life. She could not be happy. She will
neither have a happy life nor a happy death."

"My dear Frank, do not prophesy such evil on our wedding-day."

"I do not mean to prophesy, I say what I think; it is a beautiful face,
full of poetry and passion, but it is also full of power and unrest."

"You shall not look at her again if you say such things," cried Lord
Chandos.

And then the good vicar, still distressed at being aroused so early,
came to the church. Had it been less pitiful and pathetic, it would have
been most comical, the number of times the old vicar dropped his book,
forgot the names, the appalling mistakes he made, the nervous hesitation
of his manner. Sometimes Lord Chandos felt inclined to say hard, hot
words; again, he could not repress a smile. But at length, after
trembling and hesitating, the vicar gave the final benediction, and
pronounced them man and wife.

In the vestry, when the names were signed, some ray of light seemed to
dawn on the old vicar.

"Chandos," he said, "that is not a common name about here."

"Is it not?" said the young lord; "it seems common enough to me."

"Chandos," repeated the minister, "where have I heard that name!"

"I have heard it so often that I am tired of it," said the young
husband.

And then it was all over.

"Thank God to be out in the sunlight," he cried, as he stood, with his
beautiful wife, in the churchyard. "Thank God it is all over, and I can
call my love my wife. I thought that service would never end. Frank,
have you no good wishes for my wife?"

Sir Frank went to Leone.

"I wish you joy," he said; "I wish you all happiness--but----"

And then he played nervously with the hat he held in his hand.

"But," she said with a bright smile, "you do not think I shall get it?"

Sir Frank made no answer; he did not think she would be happy, but she
had chosen her own way; he had said all he could. Perhaps