“I really do not know,” said Mrs. Dodd. “Is he at the church, do you think?”
“No, no, either he was to call for me here, or I for him. I'll go to the church, though: it is only a step.”
He ran off, and in a little more than five minutes came into the drawing-room.
“No, he is not there. I must go to his lodgings. Confound him, he has got reading Aristotle, I suppose.”
This passed before the whole party, Julia excepted.
Sampson looked at his watch, and said he could conduct the ladies to the church while Edward went for Alfred. “Division of labour,” said he gallantly, “and mine the delightful half.”
Mrs. Dodd demurred to the plan. She was for waiting quietly in one place.
“Well, but” said Edward, “we may overdo that; here it is a quarter-past eleven, and you know they can't be married after twelve. No, I really think you had better all go with the doctor. I dare say we shall be there as soon as you will.”
This was agreed on after some discussion. Edward, however, to provide against all contingencies, begged Sampson not to wait for him should Alfred reach the church by some other road: “I'm only groomsman, you know,” said he. He ran off at a racing pace. The bride was then summoned, admired, and handed into one carriage with her two bridesmaids, Miss Bosanquet and Miss Darton. Sampson and Mrs. Dodd went in the other; and by half-past eleven they were all safe in the church.
A good many people, high and low, were about the door and in the pews, waiting to see the beautiful Miss Dodd married to the son of a personage once so popular as Mr. Hardie: it had even transpired that Mr. Hardie disapproved the match. They had been waiting a long time, and were beginning to wonder what was the matter, when, at last the bride's party walked up the aisle with a bright April sun shining on them through the broad old windows. The bride's rare beauty, and stag-like carriage of her head, imperial in its loveliness and orange wreath, drew a hum of admiration.