“'Till death us do part,'” repeated the bridegroom's lips; but everybody knew that what his heart said was: “Now, and through all eternity.”
“According to God's holy ordinance.”
“'According to God's holy ordinance.'”
“And thereto I plight thee my troth.”
“'And thereto I plight thee my troth.'”
There was a faint stir in the room. In one corner a white-haired woman blinked tear-wet eyes and pulled a fleecy white shawl more closely about her shoulders. Then the minister's voice sounded again.
“I, Billy, take thee, Bertram.”
“'I, Billy, take thee, Bertram.'”
This time the echoing voice was a feminine one, low and sweet, but clearly distinct, and vibrant with joyous confidence, on through one after another of the ever familiar, but ever impressive phrases of the service that gives into the hands of one man and of one woman the future happiness, each of the other.
The wedding was at noon. That evening Mrs. Kate Hartwell, sister of the bridegroom, wrote the following letter: