_The organ plays Mendelssohn's wedding march._ CYNTHIA _turns and faces_ MISS HENEAGE. MISS HENEAGE _slowly reaches_ CYNTHIA _and extends her hand in her readiness to lead the bride to the altar._ MISS HENEAGE. Mrs. Karslake! PHILIP. Ahem! [MATTHEW _walks forward two or three steps._ CYNTHIA _stands as if turned to stone._ MATTHEW. My dear Cynthia. I request you--to take your place. [CYNTHIA _moves one or two steps as if to go up to the altar. She takes_ MISS HENEAGE'S _hand and slowly they walk toward_ MATTHEW.] Your husband to be--is ready, the ring is in my pocket. I have only to ask you the--eh--necessary questions,--and--eh--all will be blissfully over in a moment. [_The organ grows louder._ CYNTHIA. [_At this moment, just as she reaches_ PHILIP, _stops, faces round, looks him_, MATTHEW, _and the rest in the face, and cries out in despair._] Thomas! Call a hansom! [THOMAS _goes out, leaving the door open._ MISS HENEAGE _crosses the room quickly_; MRS. PHILLIMORE, _shocked into action, rises._ CYNTHIA _catches up her cloak from the table._ PHILIP _turns and_ CYNTHIA _comes forward and stops._] I can't, Philip--I can't. [_Whistle of hansom is heard off; the organ stops._] It is simply a case of throwing the reins on nature's neck--up anchor--and sit tight! [MATTHEW _moves to_ CYNTHIA.] Matthew, don't come near me! Yes, yes, I distrust you. It's your business, and you'd marry me if you could. PHILIP. [_Watching her in dismay as she throws on her cloak._] Where are you going? CYNTHIA. I'm going to Jack. PHILIP. What for? CYNTHIA. To stop his marrying Vida. I'm blowing a hurricane inside, a horrible, happy hurricane! I know myself--I know what's the matter with me. If I married you and Miss Heneage--what's the use of talking about it--he mustn't marry that woman. He sha'n't. [CYNTHIA _has now all her wraps on and walks toward the door rapidly. To_ PHILIP.] Sorry! So long! Good-night and see you later. _Reaching the door, she goes out in blind haste and without further ceremony._ MATTHEW, _in absolute amazement, throws up his arms._ PHILIP _is rigid._ MRS. PHILLIMORE _sinks into a chair._ MISS HENEAGE _stands supercilious and unmoved._ GRACE, _the same. The choir, at MATTHEW'S gesture, mistakes it for the concerted signal, and bursts lustily into the Epithalamis:_ "Enduring love--sweet end of strife! Oh, bless this happy man and wife!" CURTAIN. ACT IV.