"Another of life's little tragedies, I suppose," whispered a well-dressed matron just behind her, to a companion at her side, "a petite maitresse, no doubt. It's a curious thing; they always come to see their lovers married."
CHAPTER XI.
The fainting of Carol in the gallery of the church and her being carried out just before the commencement of the ceremony, was looked upon by some of the more superstitious of the immediate spectators as a sign of evil omen to the happiness of those who, in the phrase which is so often only the echo of devils' laughter, were about "to be joined together in holy matrimony."
Still, only a few had heard the broken words which the horror-stricken girl had uttered before she fell down insensible, and those only thought what the good lady behind her had said. To the rest of the congregation it was merely an incident, due to the crowd and the heat. The little flutter of excitement which it caused soon passed away, and the ceremony began and went on without any of the bridal party even knowing what had happened.
She was carried to the gallery stairs, and there Dora sat her down, supporting her with her arm, while one sympathetic young lady held a bottle of salts to her nostrils, and an older lady emptied a scent-bottle on to her handkerchief and held it to her forehead.
In a very few minutes she came round. She looked about her, and, recognising Dora, said:
"Oh, dear, what's happened? Where am I? Yes, I remember—at a wedding—and he——"