“Are you ready?” inquired the young man.
“Yes,” she answered, in a tone scarcely above her breath.
He gave her his arm and led her forth, down the stairs and out of the house, to the carriage that stood waiting for them before the door.
In another moment they were bowling rapidly up the avenue and turning into a cross street. A ten minutes’ drive brought them to old St. Matthew’s. He helped her from the carriage and led her into the church, at whose lighted altar stood the priest in his vestments, attended by one or two sacristans.
In the front pew nearest the altar were three women at their devotions.
As these were not the hours of public worship, there were no other persons in the church. Gloria wondered to see these present, but was too much troubled with other thoughts to speak of the circumstance.
David Lindsay, however, voluntarily enlightened her.
“I told the priest, in answer to his questions, that we had no witnesses to bring with us. He then said that he would have to provide them. I suppose he has done so, and these are they,” he whispered, as he led his trembling companion up the aisle to the chancel.
Two hassocks had been placed on the floor before the altar railings. Upon these they knelt.
The priest opened his book and began the ceremony forthwith.