Mavis, who had followed the bridal procession, now took her place on Chlorie’s left, to assist the bride. It was a beautiful ceremony, and the incense, the priest’s vestments, the music, all helped to make it awe inspiring and impressive. The gifts were offered—Chlorie accepted them—the moment was almost at hand that would make them one. Alan was repeating softly after the priest—
“May this ring, with which I encircle thy finger, be a lasting proof of the unity of our affection. May the circlet with which I crown thee, prove that I honour thee as my loved one, and install thee as Queen of my House.”
And Chlorie answered softly, “I accept this ring, and from my finger it shall never slip. I accept the crown that thou offerest me, and in return I pray Mitzor the Mighty, that I may rule my household wisely and well.”
Then came the vows of love and fidelity; each repeated the words with hands clasped.
“Before Mitzor the Mighty, the Great White Glory, I promise to let naught come between my chosen spouse and me. I promise to love him (her) and honour him (her), share his (her) troubles, and smooth away his (her) griefs. Lastly, I ask Mitzor, the Tower of Strength, to crown us both with the glory of our union.”
Then, kneeling, the High Priest blessed them.
“May Mitzor, the Great White Glory, bless you both, and keep you both in the paths of righteousness. May he make thee, Oh Ak-Alan, a tender husband; and thee, Chlorie, a loving wife. Thy vows are made—kneel and pray while the sacrificial fires are lighted, and the dust of thy offering is thrown to the winds.”
Hand in hand the newly married pair knelt. Into a tiny tabernacle the offering of fruits was placed—the doors closed upon it. A second passed, and by the aid of etheric heat there was nothing left but a little powdery dust.
Slowly the priests and the acolytes walked down the aisle, the bridal pair following. With prayers and exhortations the dust was scattered, and wafted out of sight by the breeze. The ceremony was over—a hymn of joy was sung, and Alan and Chlorie were led to their bhor that was waiting.
They drove together in the open bhor, and Chlorie could not speak—her heart was too full of emotion. The excitement, the cheering, the crowds tired her—and yet there was still the reception to get through.