“Will you not stop this, then?” “No, no Madame! I wait!” “For why, you wait?” “For that she _des_pise, she _ab_hor, she scorn me—the convict! Very well!—I make her to be also convict herself!” hissed the man between his closed teeth. Meanwhile the bridal train proceeded up the aisle and formed before the altar in something like the following order—the old Duchess of Graveminster and Sir Parke Morelle, leading the way, filed off to the extreme right; Lady Morelle and Lord Dazzleright, following, passed off to the left; next came the bride and bridegroom who took their places in the centre; then their attendants, coming up in pairs, divided and formed on either side—the bridesmaids filling up the segment of the semicircle between the bride and her mother, and the groomsmen occupying the corresponding space between the bridegroom and his father-in-law. The sun shining in rich, deep-toned glory through the gorgeously stained glass Gothic windows on either side the high altar, never fell upon a more imposing bridal circle. There was the bridegroom, with his tall, well set, kingly form, and most noble head and face, full of conscious power, and wisdom, and protective love; and the bride with her dark, bright, wondrous beauty and her matchless grace; and the stately bridemen and the fair bridemaidens.— “Each a queen by virtue of her breast and brow;” and there were the dignified Sir Parke, the regal Lord Morelle, the haughty old Duchess of Graveminster and the splendid Lord Dazzleright. And there within the altar rails before the aisle stood the venerable Bishop of Exeter, between two assistant clergymen. And all—congregation, companions, and officiating ministers, were regarding with looks of admiration, affection, or pride, the presence of the beautiful bride. The Bishop opened the book. And every whisper was hushed, and every eye reverently dropped as the venerable prelate, in a solemn voice, pronounced the first words of the imposing ritual. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered together, here in the sight of God, and in the face of this company, to join together this man and this woman, in holy matrimony; which is commended of St. Paul to be honorable among all men; and therefore is not to be entered into unadvisedly, or lightly; but reverently, discreetly, advisedly, soberly and in the fear of God. Into this holy state these two people present come now to be joined. “If any man can show just cause, why they may not lawfully be joined together, let him now speak, or else hereafter forever, hold his peace.” The Bishop now made the usual solemn pause, during which not a breath seemed drawn in the silent church. Though had any one been sufficiently near that ill-omened group in the shadowy corner pew, they might have caught the deep, hurried whisper of the woman— “Attend you, Victoire!—listen, then, my son!” And the hissing reply of the man— “Yes, Madame!—but mon Dieu! I wait!”