Abel Force bore his unfortunate daughter off to the side pews, where her mother, her sisters and her governess had retreated, and where they sat, confounded and overwhelmed by all that had passed. "Take her, Elfrida," he said, lifting the girl and laying her in the arms of her mother. "And do not allow that man to come near her. He has behaved badly in not giving her up, on my demand, until we can inquire into this matter. It may be that this strange woman is a lunatic, or an impostor. We shall see." Mrs. Force made no reply. She could not speak. She took her daughter on her lap, as if Odalite had been a young child, and laid the pale cheek of the girl on her bosom, and motioned her husband to return to the group around the bridegroom. "Odalite, darling, do not grieve. No wrong of any sort shall be done you. You have your father and your mother, dear, and our faithful love shall never leave you," said Abel Force, as he stooped and kissed his daughter's pale forehead, and walked away. But Odalite made no sign. "And you have us, darling, darling sister," said Elva, taking up and kissing one cold hand. "And you have Le, as true as steel!" put in Wynnette. "And, oh, I knew! I knew something was going to happen to stop it all! I didn't know whether it was going to be a forbidding of the banns, or an apoplectic fit, or an earthquake, but I knew something would happen," said Elva, taking the bride's other hand. "'Some outlet through thunder and lightning,'" added Wynnette. "Oh, why don't you speak? Why don't you say something, Odalite?" inquired Elva. But Odalite gave no sign. She seemed stupefied, benumbed. "Let your sister alone, my dears. Don't disturb her," said Miss Meeke. Elfrida Force said nothing. She only recognized in this lethargy the merciful effects of the drug she had administered to her suffering daughter that morning. Meanwhile, the scene before the chancel was becoming more exciting. Col. Anglesea, furious, defiant, aggressive, but held in check by the surroundings; Abel Force, deeply offended, but self-controlled and dignified; Thomas Grandiere, dark, gloomy and determined; William Elk, red, fiery and threatening; and the strange woman composed, sarcastic and triumphant--formed a group around which the crowd assembled in the church were pressing as closely as possible. "How dared you come here to make this scene?" fiercely demanded Anglesea. "How 'dared' I? Humph! I like that! Do you think I'm afeared of _you_? When I have got the whip hand of you, too? I came here to take a hand in this here little game o' your'n! And I guess it's my deal now! And I rayther guess as how I shall turn up the little joker! We'll see presently!" laughed the woman. Then, turning to the others, she said: