“Say and think what you will, ladies and gentlemen,” said Marie, with firmness, “I shall never marry a man unless I love him and he loves me, and it will be my fault if I do not retain his devotion.” “Hold fast to that sentiment, my child,” said Connors, solemnly, “and may faith in it never forsake you.” “Our carriage is below,” said Salmon, “let us hasten to the church,” and the company departed from the house. CHAPTER XVIII. THE WEDDING IN THE CHURCH. There are but few people who are not familiar with the little church around the corner. It is not only quaint in appearance, but its history is unique in the extreme. Those who paid but little attention to God and religion in life, were always well treated here, in death, and prince and pauper were alike welcome to its use. The bridal party arrived, and there was little of that absurd delay which usually characterizes the fashionable wedding. Soon after, the organist played one of the stock wedding marches, and as the bridal party appeared before the altar, the preacher, paler than any one had ever before seen him, ascended the pulpit. He looked down upon Ouida and Paul, and as he did, a mournful glance of recognition and understanding flashed between the preacher and the bride. Apparently, no one observed them. The organist ceased his touching of the keys, and the sound of the music died away in the distance. Dr. Nugent made an effort to begin the ceremony, but something hindered him, and he had the sympathy of all, because they thought him ill. They little knew his agony. At length, by a supreme effort, he mastered himself. “Will the bride and groom join hands?” he said, and the silence seemed full of pain. “Will you, Ouida Angelo, take as husband, Paul Strogoff, and, forsaking all others, cleave unto him, and honor and obey him, as long as you shall live, and until death shall part you?” And the woman said, softly: “I will.” “Will you, Paul Strogoff, take as your lawful wife, this woman, Ouida Angelo, and love her, comfort, support and protect, and, forsaking all others, cleave unto her as long as you shall live, and until death shall part you?” And the man said, boldly and proudly: “I will.” “If any here present know aught why this marriage should not take place, let him speak now, or forever hold his peace,” and just as he spoke these words, the preacher himself, knowing of the empty heart the woman was bringing to the man, was about to speak, but his objection was registered only in his own soul. There was no spoken objection. “Then I pronounce you man and wife.” As the preacher uttered the words which united his rival to the woman he loved, he tottered feebly from the pulpit. Mr. Salmon sprang to his assistance, but was waived away, the minister saying: “I am not well today.” CHAPTER XIX. THE BRIDAL CHAMBER.