the backs of our two cavaliers disappearing meekly into the
rain, I stationed Francesca at a point of vantage, and went out to my
victims in the front pew.

"The others went on ahead," I explained, with elaborate
carelessness--"they wanted to drive by Dublin Castle; and we are going
to follow as we like. For my part, I am tired, and you are looking pale,
Salemina; I am sure your ankle is painful. Help her, Dr. Gerald, please;
she is so proud and self-reliant that she won't even lean on any one's
arm, if she can avoid it. Take her down the middle aisle, for I've sent
your car to that door" (this was the last of a series of happy thoughts
on my part). "I'll go and tell Francesca, who is flirting with the
organist. She has an appointment at the tailor's; so I will drop her
there, and join you at the hotel in a few minutes."

The refractory pair of innocent, middle-aged lovers started, arm in
arm, on what I ardently hoped would be an eventful walk together. It
was from, instead of toward the altar, to be sure, but I was certain
it would finally lead them to it, notwithstanding the unusual method of
approach. I gave Francesca the signal, and then, disappearing behind the
screen, I held her hand in a palpitation of nervous apprehension that I
had scarcely felt when Himself first asked me to be his.

The young organist, blushing to the roots of his hair, trembling with
responsibility, smiling at the humour of the thing, pulled out all the
stops, and the Wedding March pealed through the cathedral, the splendid
joy and swing and triumph of it echoing through the vaulted aisles in a
way that positively incited one to bigamy.

"We may regard the matter as settled now," whispered Francesca
comfortably. "Anybody would ask anybody else to marry him, whether he
was in love with her or not. If it weren't so beautiful and so touching,
wouldn't it be amusing? Isn't the organist a darling, and doesn't he
enter into the spirit of it? See him shaking with sympathetic
laughter, and yet he never lets a smile creep into the music; it is all
earnestness and majesty. May I peep now and see how they are getting
on?"

"Certainly not! What are you thinking of, Francesca? Our only
justification in this whole matter is that we are absolutely serious
about it. We shall say good-bye to the organist, wring his hand
gratefully, and steal with him through the little door. Then in a
half-hour we shall know the worst or the best; and we must remember