enry and Lady Harcourt were to try the world in sweet
communion together. One may say that, as to doubt about the trial,
there was need of none. He had more than won his spurs. He was
already a practised knight in the highest flight of the world's
tourneys. And for her, too, there was little cause of fear. They who
saw her arrayed in that bright frosty marriage morning, and watched
the majesty of her brow, the brilliancy of her eye, the grace and
dignity of her step, all swore that the young lawyer had done well.
He had found for himself a meet companion for his high career; a
proper bride for his coming greatness. And so the marriage-bells rang
on, with all their merriness, with all their joy.

And now the words have been said, the vows have been plighted, the
magic circlet of pure gold has done its wondrous work. The priest
smiles and grasps their hands as he gives them his parting friendly
blessing. Laughing bridesmaids press in to sign the book, and all
observe that no signature was ever written with more decision than
that of Caroline Waddington.

Caroline Waddington now no longer! Yes; the deed had, in truth, been
done. The vows had been plighted. She had taken this man to be her
wedded husband, to live together with him after God's ordinance. She
had sworn to obey him, and serve him, and-- Ah! ah! ah! How had she
lived while that word was uttered to her! how had she lived to swear
that falsest oath!

But it was not then, while standing at the altar, that the struggle
had been made. Then she did but act her part, as some stage-queen
acts hers. She acted it well; that was all. There was no meaning in
her words then. Though her lips moved, she swore no oath. Her oath
had been sworn before that.

No educated woman, we may suppose, stands at the altar as a bride,
without having read and re-read those words till they are closely
fixed on her memory. It is a great oath, and a woman should know
well what that is to which she is about to pledge herself. Caroline
Waddington had studied them well. She would live with him after God's
ordinance; that is, as his wife. Yes, she was prepared for that. She
would obey him. Yes; if obedience were required, she would give it.
Serve him? oh, yes, certainly; to the best of her power of mind and
body. Love him? No; she was bold, at least, if not righteous. No; she
could not love him. But, then, how few who were married complied with
all those behests? How many were undutiful, diso