“What is the meaning of this outrageous conduct, Col. Anglesea? Who is this woman?” sternly demanded the bride’s father of the bridegroom.
Every man, woman and child in the congregation arose, stretched their necks and leaned forward to hear and see what was going on.
“The woman is a lunatic escaped from some madhouse, I suppose. She had best be arrested. Where are your constables?” growled the bridegroom, drawing the arm of his bride within his own and attempting to leave the altar.
“Stop that man!” cried the strange woman. “If you care for that girl’s honor and good name, stop that man!” she vehemently repeated, placing herself directly in the path of the enraged bridegroom and his half-stupefied bride.
“Begone, woman! You are mad! Will some one take this maniac in custody?” fiercely demanded Anglesea, roughly pushing the stranger aside, and dragging Odalite after him, and trying to force his way down the narrow aisle, which was now fast filling up with the eager, wondering people from the pews.
“One moment, if you please, sir. Let me relieve you of my daughter, until this interruption shall be explained,” said Mr. Force, taking the hand of his child, to draw her away.
But the bridegroom’s arm tightened around his prey, as he haughtily replied:
“Pardon me, sir! You have no authority over Mrs. Anglesea. She is my wife, and under my protection. Let me pass.”
“Not if I know it—you don’t pass here! Not with that innocent girl on your arm, you don’t! Your wife, is she? I see that, and go one better! And that’s me! A man can’t have two wives, can he, Mr. Parson? This ain’t Utah, nor yet Salt Lake City, be it?”
“I think, Col. Anglesea,” slowly began the rector——but the bridegroom cut him short: