All this time was Mrs Marston’s opportunity if she could have availed herself of it. She sat in her place in her front pew, in a tremble, meaning every moment to put force upon herself to do her duty. All the time she was reminding herself that she was a clergyman’s wife; that she ought not to be timid; that it was her duty to speak. But how much easier it had been last night in intention than it was to-day in reality! For one thing, she had not foreseen the presence of Lady Germaine. She had thought only of the poor girl, who probably had no mother, to whom it would make all the difference in the world to have a woman to speak to. But the presence of the other lady confounded the Rector’s wife. She sat and looked on in a tremor of anxiety and timidity, unable to move, yet with her heart pricking and urging her. And so pretty and modest as the bride looked, poor thing; and surely he was fond of her. He would not look at her like that if it was an interested marriage. But when she saw the laughter which “the other lady” could not suppress, horror overcame all other sentiments in Mrs Marston’s mind. To laugh in church; to laugh at one of the church services! She had gone down on her knees, but neither did she, it is to be feared, give very much attention to the prayers. And even the Rector’s mind was disturbed. He stumbled twice in what he was saying; his eyes were not upon the book, but upon the door, watching for some one to come; and, good heavens! how slowly the time went! After all, it was not much more than the half-hour when the two poor women, scarcely knowing what had passed, got up from their knees. He had read more quickly instead of more slowly in the confusion of his mind. Twenty minutes yet! and the two poor mothers going down the altar-steps, stealing into the first vacant seat to sate their eyes with the ceremony to follow, and the other little group ranged before him, Simms putting them in their places very officiously, and no help for it, and no sign of any one coming. Well, a man can do no more than his duty! The Rector came forward with the sentiments of a martyr, and opened his book and cleared his voice. He was so much excited and nervous that he could hardly keep his articulation clear. He had to clear his voice a great many times in the first address; the figures before him swam in his eyes. He had an impression of a sweet but pale face, very solemn and tremulous, yet calm, and of a man who did not look like an adventurer. It occurred to him, even as he read, that if he had not known anything about them, he would have been interested in this young pair. Was no one coming, then? He hardly knew how he began. Three-quarters chiming, and nothing more that he could do to gain time! He went on, stumbling, partly from agitation, partly for delay, lifting his eyes between every two words, committing more indecorum in the course of five minutes than he had done before in all his clerical life. When he came to the words