When the minister asked, “Who giveth this woman to be married?” and the man that she had been watching gave up his companion with a slight inclination of the head, and moved aside, the gaze of the princess still followed and rested on him. When, a moment later, a strange foreign voice said painstakingly, “I, Victor, take thee, Alice, to my wedded wife,” what she heard, in natural and familiar English utterance was this: “I, Harold, take thee, Sophia, to my wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God’s holy ordinance, and thereto I plight thee my troth.” And it was her own voice which made answer: “I, Sophia, take thee, Harold.” A hard clutch was on her heart. He was there--the Harold who had made that vow to her; and she, Sophia, was here, in life, not death! “Till death us do part,” they had both of them sworn, and they had let life part them! The terrible wrong of it all rushed over her. The reasons which had made that parting seem to her right before now vanished into air. She felt that crime alone could ever link one of them to another. She felt that this separation between them was in itself a crime, and she who had done it the chief of criminals. All this she felt with terrifying force, but a feeling stronger than even any of these had taken possession of her--a want and longing had awakened in her heart which strained it almost intolerably. She looked at the bride’s brother, standing there intensely still, in an attitude of complete repose, and a feeling that he was hers, and hers alone took possession of her. She grew reckless of appearances, and stood up in her place, with her face turned full toward him. She heard the clergyman’s stern behest that man put not asunder those whom God hath joined, and she heard him pronounce that they were man and wife, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Her heart said a solemn amen. Imagination lingered on these thrilling thoughts while the blessing was pronounced and the service ended; and then the little procession, the bride and bridegroom at its head, and the figure that she watched at his mother’s side behind them, passed her and went down the aisle, while the familiar music was playing, to which she had walked from the altar a blissfully happy wife--and she was left alone! The organist quickly closed the organ, and hurried away. The people near her moved off too; and still she sat there motionless, feeling herself deserted and most miserable. A boy, putting out the candles, roused her to consciousness, and somehow she got out of the place. VII