“I think not.”
“Then there is nothing extraordinary in the circumstance.”
“What does the man want at my wedding?”
“All friends of the parties find weddings interesting. Perhaps you misjudge this Eastern gentleman. He has called at my office to give me a letter for the Countess, and he expressed the most kindly sentiments towards you. See, Mrs. Lauriston seems impatient.”
The two gentlemen were conversing in a low voice just within the vestry door. Nouna had slipped past them into the body of the church, and stood in an unusually quiet and pensive mood gazing at the altar where she had lately knelt. George shook himself free from a crowd of bewildering questions that were forcing themselves into his mind, and called to her.
“Nouna, come and sign the register.”
“I’ve done it,” “She has done so,” answered she and the lawyer together.
“I didn’t see you.”
“I did it while you were talking,” said she, quickly.
“Yes, yes, it’s all right; the lady signed her name,” broke in the vicar, who thought he was never going to get rid of them.