was in readiness, from the
bridegroom, resplendent in scarlet and gold, waiting in the chancel with
Teddy Duncombe, the best man, to the buzzing guests who swarmed in at
the west door to be received by the colonel's wife, who in her capacity
of hostess seemed to be everywhere at once.

"She was quite ready when I left, and looking sweet," so ran the story
to one after another. "Oh, yes, in her travelling dress, of course. That
had to be. But quite bridal--the palest silver grey. She looks quite
charming, and such a girl. No one would ever think--" and so on, to
innumerable acquaintances, ending where she had begun--"yes, she was
quite ready when I left, and looking sweet!"

Ready or not, she was undoubtedly late, as is the recognised custom of
brides all the world over. The organist, who had been playing an
impressive selection, was drawing to the end of his resources and
beginning to improvise somewhat spasmodically. The bridegroom betrayed
no impatience, but there was undeniable strain in his attitude. He stood
stiff and motionless as a soldier on parade. The guests were commencing
to peer and wonder. Mrs. Chester made her tenth pilgrimage to the door.

Ah! The carriage at last! She turned back with a beaming face, and
rustled up the aisle as though she were the heroine of the occasion. A
flutter of expectation went through the church. The organist plunged
abruptly into "The Voice that Breathed o'er Eden."

Everyone rose. Everyone craned towards the door. The carriage, with its
flying favours, was stopping, had stopped. The colonel was seen
descending.

He was looking very pale, whispered someone. Could anything be wrong? He
was not wont to suffer from nervousness.

He did not turn to assist the bride. Surely that was strange! Nor did
she follow him. Surely--surely the carriage behind him was empty!

Something indeed had happened. She must be ill! A great tremor went
through the waiting crowd. No one was singing, but the music pealed on
and on till some wild rumour of disaster reached the waiting chaplain,
and he stepped across the chancel and touched the organist's shoulder.

Instantly silence fell--a terrible, nerve-racking silence. Colonel
Chester had entered. He stood just within the door, pale and stern,
whispering to the officer in charge of the men. People stared at him, at
each other, at the bridegroom still standing motionless by the chancel
steps. And then at last the silence broke into a murmur that