spread and
spread. Something had happened! Something was wrong! No, the bride was
not ill. But there would be no wedding that day.

Someone came hurriedly and spoke to Teddy Duncombe, who turned first
crimson, then very white, and finally pulled himself together with a
jerk and went to Hone. Everyone craned to see what would happen--how the
news would affect him, whether he would be deeply shocked, or
whether--whether--ah! A great sigh went through the church. He did not
seem startled or even greatly dismayed. He listened to Duncombe gravely,
but without any visible discomfiture. There could not be anything very
serious the matter, then. A note was put into his hand, which he read
with absolute calmness under the eyes of the multitude.

When he looked up from it, the colonel had reached his side. They
exchanged a few words, and then Hone, smiling faintly, beckoned to the
chaplain. He rested a hand on his shoulder in his careless, friendly
way, and spoke into his ear.

The chaplain looked deeply concerned, nodded once or twice, and,
straightening himself, faced the crowd of guests.

"I am requested to state," he announced in the midst of dead silence,
"that, owing to a most regrettable and unforeseen mischance, the happy
event which we are gathered here to celebrate must be unavoidably
postponed. The bride has just received an urgent summons to England on a
matter of the first importance, which she feels compelled to obey, and
she is already on her way to Bombay in the hope of catching the steamer
which will sail to-morrow. It only remains for me to express deep
sympathy, in which I am sure all present join me, with our friend Major
Hone and his bride-elect on their disappointment, and the sincere hope
that their happy union may not long be deferred."

He ended with a doubtful glance at Hone, who, standing on the chancel
steps, bowed briefly, and, taking Duncombe by the shoulder, marched with
him into the vestry. He certainly did not look in the least disconcerted
or anxious. It could not be anything really serious. A feeling of relief
lightened the atmosphere. People began to talk, to speculate, even to
enjoy the sensation. Poor Hone! He was not often unlucky. But, of
course, it would be all right. He would probably follow his bride to
England, and they would be married there. Doubtless that was his
intention, or he could not have looked so undismayed.

So ran the tide of gossip and surmise. And in Hone's pocket