But Le kept silence, looking as grim as the Sphinx. Apparently he saw no just cause to interfere; nor, apparently, did any one else.
The ceremony went on to the question put to bridegroom and bride, and which was answered by the former with a firm, distinct—
“I will.”
And the latter with a steady, quiet—
“I will.”
“‘Who giveth this woman to be married to this man?’” demanded the minister.
Mr. Force stepped forward, took the hand of his daughter and placed it within that of the bridegroom, almost shuddering with a vague presentiment of evil, when he felt, even through her kid glove, how deadly cold and heavy that little hand was!
And the rites went on, and on, and on, and nothing happened to arrest them—no thunderbolt from heaven descended from the wintry sky to scatter the bridal party—no earthquake caused the ground to yawn and swallow them.
The rites went on, and on, and on, to their bitter end, where the voice of the officiating minister, assuming awful solemnity, concludes the ceremony with these warning words:
“‘Those whom God hath joined together let not man put asunder.’”