“God help her, God help her, and God help Humphrey!” she kept repeating to herself in a sort of childish entreaty. “Gwen,” she said at last, “you must not look like this when Humphrey sees you. Gwen, my darling, you have nothing to fear with such a man!” “Do you think I fear him? I thought you would have known better, it is myself I fear.” “Yourself is a bogie you have set up, Gwen, Humphrey will soon demolish that!” “I wish I felt sure of it. I wish I felt sure of anything. Upon my word, Mrs. Fellowes, upon my word, I wish from the bottom of my soul I could say with any decent show of honesty, God help us, Humphrey and me! But God never felt so unreal, such a mere bubble to please fools, as He does at this minute—Don’t, don’t exclaim, or protest, or be shocked—not to-day, my wedding day, and such a brilliant match, too!” she added laughing. “Ah, well! I won’t hurt you, we’ll leave that part.—My father is to go through the farce of bringing me up to the altar, is he not?” she asked, thrusting all trace of emotion from her face and sitting up straight. “If you don’t keep a very sharp eye on him he is sure to do something quite unique. If one could only wind him up and touch springs at intervals! one can’t unfortunately, and I feel sure I shall be made ridiculous. Your eye must get off him now and again, so I suppose I may as well accustom myself to the thought,” she went on with a shrug, “and resolve to swallow the whole hog without grimacing, but I do so loathe being made to look like a fool. Are we here? Oh, my flowers! The children have them perhaps? Yes, look!” As she walked up the church, just touching her father’s arm, with Mrs. Fellowes’ two little nieces in white gauze and water lilies, looking like a pair of lilies themselves for softness and cool creaminess, trotting after her, her mother from her chancel pew caught sight of her for the first time. For a minute she looked dazed and frightened, then suddenly with a broken smothered cry, she leaned forward and threw out both her hands to her daughter, two big tears in her eyes, and her face tremulous with a great joy that was pain. Mrs. Fellowes saw it, it was intensely pathetic to her and a revelation. She had at last, at the end of all these years, seen a glimpse of this small, golden-headed creature’s motherhood—after all she was really human! She hurried up, sat down beside her, and gently brought her back to herself. Then with one of Mrs. Waring’s hands caught in hers, as if she had been a child, she looked at Gwen, and wondered how on earth any girl with a stone for a heart could look as divine as she did. She looked round the church, and every man, woman, and child was worshipping her in audible silence. There was not a whisper, not a joke, not a smile. As soon as the cake was cut, Gwen went away to dress. As she passed Mrs. Fellowes she whispered,