"My dear Frank, do not prophesy such evil on our wedding-day."
"I do not mean to prophesy, I say what I think; it is a beautiful face, full of poetry and passion, but it is also full of power and unrest."
"You shall not look at her again if you say such things," cried Lord Chandos.
And then the good vicar, still distressed at being aroused so early, came to the church. Had it been less pitiful and pathetic, it would have been most comical, the number of times the old vicar dropped his book, forgot the names, the appalling mistakes he made, the nervous hesitation of his manner. Sometimes Lord Chandos felt inclined to say hard, hot words; again, he could not repress a smile. But at length, after trembling and hesitating, the vicar gave the final benediction, and pronounced them man and wife.
In the vestry, when the names were signed, some ray of light seemed to dawn on the old vicar.
"Chandos," he said, "that is not a common name about here."
"Is it not?" said the young lord; "it seems common enough to me."
"Chandos," repeated the minister, "where have I heard that name!"
"I have heard it so often that I am tired of it," said the young husband.
And then it was all over.