facilities in that respect are very limited. The Captain, Uncle Sol,
and Mr Toots are come; the clergyman is putting on his surplice in the
vestry, while the clerk walks round him, blowing the dust off it; and
the bride and bridegroom stand before the altar. There is no bridesmaid,
unless Susan Nipper is one; and no better father than Captain Cuttle. A
man with a wooden leg, chewing a faint apple and carrying a blue bag
in has hand, looks in to see what is going on; but finding it nothing
entertaining, stumps off again, and pegs his way among the echoes out of
doors.

No gracious ray of light is seen to fall on Florence, kneeling at the
altar with her timid head bowed down. The morning luminary is built
out, and don't shine there. There is a meagre tree outside, where
the sparrows are chirping a little; and there is a blackbird in an
eyelet-hole of sun in a dyer's garret, over against the window, who
whistles loudly whilst the service is performing; and there is the man
with the wooden leg stumping away. The amens of the dusty clerk appear,
like Macbeth's, to stick in his throat a little'; but Captain Cuttle
helps him out, and does it with so much goodwill that he interpolates
three entirely new responses of that word, never introduced into the
service before.

They are married, and have signed their names in one of the old sneezy
registers, and the clergyman's surplice is restored to the dust, and the
clergymam is gone home. In a dark corner of the dark church, Florence
has turned to Susan Nipper, and is weeping in her arms. Mr Toots's eyes
are red. The Captain lubricates his nose. Uncle Sol has pulled down his
spectacles from his forehead, and walked out to the door.

'God bless you, Susan; dearest Susan! If you ever can bear witness to
the love I have for Walter, and the reason that I have to love him, do
it for his sake. Good-bye! Good-bye!'

They have thought it better not to go back to the Midshipman, but to
part so; a coach is waiting for them, near at hand.

Miss Nipper cannot speak; she only sobs and chokes, and hugs her
mistress. Mr Toots advances, urges her to cheer up, and takes charge
of her. Florence gives him her hand--gives him, in the fulness of her
heart, her lips--kisses Uncle Sol, and Captain Cuttle, and is borne away
by her young husband.

But Susan cannot bear that Florence should go away with a mournful
recollection of her. She had meant to be so different, that she
reproaches herself bitt