All the colour went suddenly out of Nancy's face. She stood for a moment as if turned to white marble, while the sound of the organ rose louder and louder, mounting up triumphantly into the fretted roof, and filling all the church with its joyous harmony. She tried to speak, but somehow or other the words refused to come. Then she felt Leslie's arm tighten, and she was walking up the aisle, while the music sank and died in low, melodious tones. She had a vague impression of two men getting up from the front pew. "Gathered together--sight of God--face of this congregation--join together--man and woman--holy matrimony--honourable estate instituted----" But this was impossible, absurd. She couldn't be married like this. What was Leslie thinking of? The man must stop. The monotonous drone continued: "Have this woman--wedded wife--live together--God's ordinance--holy estate matrimony--lover, comfort, honour, an' keeper--sickness and in health--forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her so long as ye both shall live?" Leslie's voice came, cheerful and distinct: "I will." "Have this man--wedded husband--live together--God's ord'nance--holy estate matrimony. Obey him, serve him, love, honour, and keep him--sickness--health--forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him so long as ye both shall live?" Nancy gasped. "Who giveth this woman--married--this man?" There was a shuffle of feet, and somebody stepped forward beside her. Nancy found herself holding Leslie's hand. Her mind seemed to be a whirling wilderness of amazed protest. What was she to do? Why hadn't she spoken before? She wouldn't be married like this--she wouldn't--she wouldn't! It was hateful of Leslie! She'd--she'd--What was it the man wanted her to say? "I, Nancy, take thee, George--wedded husband--have and to hold----" Somehow she had stumbled through the responses, and then she was kneeling beside Leslie, and her hand was still in his. It was too late now. She was married--married--married, and all the protests in the world would be worse than useless. Even the parson's drone seemed to ring with a note of finality. "Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder." Of what happened immediately after, Nancy never had any very clear idea. She remembered signing a book, and shaking hands with two complete strangers, and being congratulated by the old clergyman. And at last she and Leslie were alone. It was then that Nancy began to cry. "Don't, dearest, don't!" said Leslie. He took her in his arms, and kissed her wet eyes and quivering lips. "Oh, how could you--how could you?" She hid her face against his coat, and somehow the laughter forced its way through her tears. "Oh, George, you beast, you beast, you bully!" "It was the only way, my Nancy." His voice was very tender, and the steady grey eyes looked down on her alight with love. She took his handkerchief out of his pocket and dabbed her eyes.