As Frank was gazing about, and getting into as much of a flurry as was possible for one of his easy temperament, light, hasty steps were heard approaching; and Margaret, nervous, panting, agitated, fell into his arms. "My darling I thought you must be lost." "I could not get away before, Frank. Of all mornings, Lydia must needs choose this one to send Tabitha to my room for some books from the shelves. Now, these did not do; then, others did not do: the woman did nothing but run in and out. And the servants were about the passages: and oh, I thought I should never get away!" A moment given to soothing her, to stilling her beating heart, and they entered the church together. Margaret threw off the thin cloak she had worn over her pretty morning dress of white-and-peach sprigged muslin, almost as delicate as white. She went up the church, flushing and paling, on Frank's arm: Mr. Backup came out of the vestry to meet them. In a few flowing and plausible words, Frank explained that it was he himself who required the parson's services, handed him the license, and begged him to get the service over as soon as possible. "The clerk is not here," answered the bewildered man, doubly bewildered now. "Oh, never mind him," said Frank. "We don't want the clerk." An older and less timid clergyman might have said, I cannot marry you under these circumstances: all Mr. Backup thought of was, getting through his own part in it. It certainly did strike him as being altogether very strange: the question even crossed him whether he was doing rightly and legally: but the license was in due form, and in his inexperience and nervousness he did not make inquiries or raise objections. When he came to the question, Who giveth this Woman to be married to this Man, and there was no response, no one indeed to respond, he visibly hesitated; but he did not dare to refuse to go on with the service. An assumption of authority, such as that, was utterly beyond the Reverend Titus Backup. He supposed that the clerk was to have acted in the capacity: but the clerk, from some inexplicable cause, was not present. Perhaps he had mistaken the hour. So the service proceeded to its close, and Francis Raynor and Margaret St. Clare were made man and wife. They proceeded to the vestry; the clergyman leading the way, Frank conducting his bride, her arm within his, the ring that bound her to him encircling her finger. After a hunt for the register, for none of them knew where it was kept, Mr. Backup found it, and entered the marriage. Frank affixed his signature, Margaret hers; and then the young clergyman seemed at a standstill, looking about him helplessly. "I--ah--there are no witnesses to the marriage," said he. "It is customary----" "We must do without them in this case," interrupted Frank, as he laid down a fee of five guineas. "It does not require witnesses to make it legal."