“And you have Le, as true as steel!” put in Wynnette.
“And, oh, I knew! I knew something was going to happen to stop it all! I didn’t know whether it was going to be a forbidding of the banns, or an apoplectic fit, or an earthquake, but I knew something would happen,” said Elva, taking the bride’s other hand.
“‘Some outlet through thunder and lightning,’” added Wynnette.
“Oh, why don’t you speak? Why don’t you say something, Odalite?” inquired Elva.
But Odalite gave no sign. She seemed stupefied, benumbed.
“Let your sister alone, my dears. Don’t disturb her,” said Miss Meeke.
Elfrida Force said nothing. She only recognized in this lethargy the merciful effects of the drug she had administered to her suffering daughter that morning.
Meanwhile, the scene before the chancel was becoming more exciting.
Col. Anglesea, furious, defiant, aggressive, but held in check by the surroundings; Abel Force, deeply offended, but self-controlled and dignified; Thomas Grandiere, dark, gloomy and determined; William Elk, red, fiery and threatening; and the strange woman composed, sarcastic and triumphant—formed a group around which the crowd assembled in the church were pressing as closely as possible.
“How dared you come here to make this scene?” fiercely demanded Anglesea.