Mr. Fabian looked at his watch from moment to moment. We have scarcely ever seen a more impatient bridegroom than Mr. Fabian Rockharrt. But, then, childish disorders go hard with elderly folks. Just as the clock struck eleven, with dramatic punctuality, the gentlemanly white-satin-badged ushers threw open the double doors, and the bride's procession entered. She wore a trained dress of rich white satin, with an overskirt, berthe and veil, all of duchess lace, looped, fastened and festooned here and there and everywhere with orange buds; and a magnificent set of diamonds, consisting of a coronet, necklace, ear-drops, brooch, and bracelets--too much for the little creature--lighting her up like fireworks as she passed under the blaze of the sunlit windows. She carried in her white-gloved hand a bouquet of white wood violets, with her monogram in purple violets in the center. She was leaning on the arm of her guardian, the chief justice, followed by eight bridesmaids. The bishop, with two other clergymen, in their white vestments, entered and took their places at the altar. The choir struck up Mendelssohn's wedding march. The bride's procession came slowly up under all the floral arches of the center aisle to the floral hedge around the chancel. The bridegroom came gayly out of the vestry room to meet her, smiling, radiant, tripping as if he had been a slim young lover of twenty, instead of a tall and heavy giant of fifty odd. He took her hand, lifted it to his lips, and led her to the altar, where both knelt. The bridesmaids grouped behind them. The best man stood on the groom's right. Old Aaron Rockharrt, Mrs. Rothsay and Cadet Haught came out of their pew and formed a group behind the bridegroom. Mrs. Chief Justice Pendletime, and a few intimate friends, came out of her pew and grouped behind the bride and her maids. The rest of the congregation remained in their pews, but stood up, and those in the rear raised on tiptoes and craned their necks to witness the proceedings. As soon as the bridegroom and the bride had knelt under the floral arch, from the high center of which hung a wedding bell of white wood violets, the bishop and his assistants stepped down from the high altar steps, and opened their books. The rites commenced, and went on without any unusual disturbance of their course until they came to the question: "Who giveth this woman to be married to this man?" Her guardian, the chief justice, a portly, ponderous person, was moving solemnly forward to perform this duty, when-- Old Aaron Rockharrt--not from officiousness, but out of pure simple egotism--took the bride's hand and placed it in that of the groom, saying: "I do."