The song ended. There was a soft bustle in the vestibule; the majestic measures of Lohengrin filled her ears; the bridesmaids shook out their plumage and moved on; the flower girls were scattering roses for her path; and with uplifted head and shining eyes Margaret Varnum went forward to meet her lover. In the chancel, proud, erect, and confident, stood Victor De Jarnette, waiting for her coming. In his black eyes was the triumph of possession. There were others in that church who had sought to win Margaret Varnum, and he did not forget it. "He's a devilish handsome fellow!" whispered a young officer in the south transept to his companion. "Yes," was the reply, "with the primary accent on the adverb, eh?" "Why doesn't his brother take part in it?" asked Mrs. Pennybacker of her niece, "as best man or usher or something?" Mrs. Van Dorn shrugged her shapely shoulders. "He is opposed to it, I believe. Not to Margaret especially, but to marriage in general. I don't suppose you could persuade him to take part in a wedding--now." "What is the matter with the man?" demanded her aunt. "He doesn't look like a crank. What can have given him such a bias as this?" Her niece smiled enigmatically. "Modesty forbids that I should say much on the subject, my dear aunt. But there are people who are unkind enough to lay to your niece's charge Richard De Jarnette's change of heart. She certainly remembers when he held altogether different views." "Do you mean to say, Maria,--" "Oh, no, certainly not, so don't look at me like that. I am only telling you what people say. Ah! There come the bridesmaids. Isn't that pink gown a dream?" Mrs. Pennybacker was looking past the bridal party to the front pew, where sat Victor De Jarnette's elder brother, stern and unbending. By his side was a younger man, who spoke to him from time to time in a light way as if to cheer him, but his pleasantries elicited scant response. It was his friend, Dr. Semple. The two were the sole occupants of the pew reserved for the family of the bridegroom. The De Jarnette brothers were singularly alone. "I don't believe it," thought Mrs. Pennybacker as she studied the man's face. "He doesn't look to me like a man who would lose his head over Maria, poor thing! as pretty as she is. Some women can make an offer of marriage out of an invitation to a prayer-meeting, and see a love letter in a note beginning, 'My dear madam.' Still, you can't tell. Maria _has_ a pretty face. And men are great fools." There was not a flaw in the matchless ceremony which has come down to us as a heritage from the ages; not a faltering note in either voice. "To love and to cherish ... till death us do part." This was their plighted troth. The church's challenge rang out boldly. "If any man can show just cause why these two persons may not lawfully be joined together, let him now speak, or else hereafter forever hold his peace." A stillness fell upon the place. But no man spoke.