The bridegroom advanced, bowed and received the bride from her father’s hand and led her up before the minister, who now stood under the floral arch between the front and rear drawing rooms, and from which the floral wedding bell hung.
The bridegroom and the bride stood before the minister—Roland Bayard, best man, stood on his right; Wynnette, first bridesmaid, stood on her left; behind them the eight white-robed girls formed a semicircle. Mr. Force stood on their right, with Mrs. Force on his arm. She was pale and trembling. He perceived her state, and whispered:
“I suppose every mother suffers something in seeing her daughter married, even under the most auspicious circumstances! But look at Odalite and Le! See how happy those children are, and recover your spirits.”
She glanced up in her husband’s kind face and smiled.
The doorbell rang sharply. Perhaps it was the utter stillness of the house—in the solemn pause of expectancy, as the minister opened his book—which made that sound reverberate through the air like a sudden and peremptory summons.
Mrs. Force looked up anxiously.
“It is of no consequence, my dear. Some chance caller, who does not know what is going on here. But I prepared for such an event by giving orders to the hall boy not to admit any one, but to tell all and sundry who might come that we are engaged,” whispered Mr. Force.
“Hush!” she murmured, but she looked relieved. “Hush! Dr. Priestly is about to begin.”
The minister, in fact, began, in a very impressive manner, to read the opening exhortation, and every eye was fixed upon him and every ear bent to hear him.
There was some movement in the hall outside. Mrs. Force started and turned her head. Her husband stooped and murmured low: