He turned to the young man by his side and spoke hurriedly in a low tone.
“An awful mistake has been made,” he said, and the organ drowned everything but the word “mistake.” “I don’t know what to do,” he went on. But young Jefferson hastened to reassure him joyously:
“Not a bit of it, old chap. Nobody noticed that hitch about the ring. It was only a second. Everything went off slick. You haven’t anything more to do now but take my sister out. Look alive, there! She looks as if she might be going to faint! She hasn’t been a bit well all day! Steady her, quick, can’t you? She’ll stick it out till she gets to the air, but hurry, for goodness’ sake!”
Gordon turned in alarm. Already the frail white bride had a claim on him. His first duty was to get her out of this crowd. Perhaps, after all, she had discovered that he was not the right man, and that was the meaning of her tears and appeal. Yet she had held her own and allowed things to go through to the finish, and perhaps he had no right to reveal to the assembled multitudes what she evidently wanted kept quiet. He must wait till he could ask her. He must do as this other man said—this—this brother of hers—who was of course the best man. Oh, fool, and blind! Why had he not understood at the beginning and got himself out of this fix before it was too late? And what should he do when he reached the door? How could he ever explain? His commission! He dared not breathe a word of that? What explanation could he possibly offer for his—his—yes——his criminal conduct? Why, no such thing was ever heard of in the history of mankind as that which had happened to him. From start to finish it was—it—was—— He could not think of words to express what it was.
He was by this time meandering jerkily down the aisle, attempting to keep time to the music and look the part that she evidently expected him to play, but his eyes were upon her face, which was whiter now and, if possible, lovelier, than before.
“Oh, just see how devoted he is,” murmured the eldest of the two dear old sisters, and he caught the sense of her words as he passed, and wondered. Then, immediately before him, retreating backward down the aisle with terrible eyes of scorn upon him, he seemed to feel the presence of Miss Julia Bentley leading onward toward the church door; but he would not take his eyes from that sweet, sad face of the white bride on his arm to look. He somehow knew that if he could hold out until he reached that door without looking up, her power over him would be exorcised forever.
Out into the vacant vestibule, under the tented canopy, alone together for the moment, he felt her gentle weight grow heavy on his arm, and knew her footsteps were lagging. Instinctively, lest others should gather around them, he almost lifted her and bore her down the carpeted steps, through the covered pathway, to the luxurious motor-car waiting with open door, and placed her on the cushions. Some one closed the car door and almost immediately they were in motion.
She settled back with a half sigh, as if she could not have borne one instant more of strain, then sitting opposite he adjusted the window to give her air. She seemed grateful but said nothing. Her eyes were closed wearily, and the whole droop of her figure showed utter exhaustion. It seemed a desecration to speak to her, yet he must have some kind of an understanding before they reached their destination.
“An explanation is due to you——” he began, without knowing just what he was going to say, but she put out her hand with a weary protest.
“Oh, please don’t!” she pleaded. “I know—the boat was late! It doesn’t matter in the least.”