I had no eyes for any one but the girl; she came in on the arm of an elderly man I judged to be a family lawyer, or in some such position. She looked very beautiful as she went slowly up the old church to join her lover; I thought with a pang of how I had seen her mother--looking just like this--step over these worn stones in her bridal dress, twenty years before. I remembered, too, how I had stood there, with a bursting heart, and had seen her going out of my life. I could not bear the thought of that, even then; I knelt in my curtained pew, and hid my face in my hands, while all the rustling and whispering went on about me. Then the solemn service began, and still I knelt there, as in a dream. But I was happier then than I had ever been; for in my dream this was poor Charlie Avaline, far back in the years, wedding the woman he loved--thereafter to live happily, without any shadow on his life. I felt that I must see her as she came out of the church; so much at least was due to me. So, with a new boldness, I stepped out of the pew, and stood there in the shadows, waiting, while she came on the arm of her young husband down the church. And the twenty odd years had taught me so much that I could stand like that, and look at it all with no feeling of envy, or bitterness for all I had suffered: only a great gladness that this Barbara at least was to tread a path of roses. I stood quietly there, watching her as she came down the church; if the tears were in my eyes, they were only there because I remembered poor Charlie Avaline, who had stood in the same place, and had watched that other Barbara whom he loved. She was within a couple of yards of me when she raised her eyes, and looked straight at me. I would have drawn back, but she was too quick for me; she came forward at once, drawing Arnold Millard with her, and caught at my hand. And it seemed that I was no longer shabby and poor; all in a moment I was greater than any one there. "It's Tinman! It's dear Tinman!" she said. In the strangest fashion she had disengaged herself from her husband's arm, and was shaking my hands. We were saying the absurdest things to each other: I congratulating her, and wishing her well, and half laughing and half crying in my weakness and my joy; she murmuring over and over again that this was the best thing of all, to see me like this at such a time. And all about us the strange wondering faces pressing nearer.