The man answered in a low, guarded voice. There was a tone in it which somehow jarred on the good minister's sensitive nerves. The girl's voice was pitifully fluttering, almost hysterical. But that was not an uncommon occurrence. Few brides are calm and self-possessed. "You will please lift your veil for the final benediction," said the aged pastor, pausing, book in hand, and gazing at the slim, silent, dark-robed figure, who had made her responses faintly, gaspingly, almost inaudibly. Again it was the stranger to the left who complied with his request, but for one instant both the clergyman and the old sexton caught sight of a face white as death, yet beautiful as an angel's, framed in a mass of dead-gold hair; but the flickering of the lamps caused strange shadows to flit over it. There was a moment of utter silence, broken only by the howling of the wind outside. Then slowly the minister's voice broke the terrible silence by uttering the words: "Then I pronounce you man and wife, and whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder." As the last word echoed through the dim old church the cold steel of a revolver, which had been pressed steadily to the girl's throbbing heart by the hand of the bridegroom, concealed by her long cloak, was quickly withdrawn. "My wedded wife!" murmured the man, and in his voice there was a tone of mocking triumph. The girl swooned in his arms, but, turning quickly with her, he hurried forward into the dense shadows of the church, carrying her to the coach in waiting without attracting attention. He could scarcely restrain himself from shouting aloud, so exuberant were his spirits. "Rave. Do whatever you like. You cannot change matters now. I am your husband, ay, the husband of a girl worth a million of money. When we are out of hearing of the old parson I will give three rousing cheers to celebrate the occasion and give vent to my triumph--ay, three cheers and a tiger with a will and a vengeance." The appearance of his friend, who had remained behind to adjust the little matters that needed attention, put a stop to his hilarity for the moment. "Well, what's next on the programme? What do you suggest now, Halloran?" he exclaimed, as that individual sprang into the coach and took his seat with chattering teeth. "I propose that you drive to the nearest inn or hostelry, or whatever they choose to call it hereabouts. I understand there is one some five miles from here, and, indeed, the horses won't last much longer than that." "I'm governed by your advice," replied his companion, with a hilarious laugh. "Give the order to get to the hostelry as soon as the driver can make it. Anything will suit me. I'm not proud, even if I have made a cool million in an hour's time. Ha! ha! ha!" "Are you mad?" whispered his companion, giving him a violent nudge.