A silence filled the little church. The boy, pale and exhausted, was asking Jude and Joyce to come forward.
Gaston saw them go, side by side, Jude shambling as usual, Joyce stepping as if hastening to receive something long-desired.
It was the briefest of services. Simple, unadorned, but dignified and solemn.
Amen!
It was over. Jude and Joyce were married! The people were stirring; were moving about. The sodden, familiar life was awaiting every one of them. No; something had happened in St. Angé. Gaston knew it. Filmer knew it. Peggy Falstar had hold of her little Billy's hand, and Peter followed with his little daughter Maggie drawn close to him.
Leon Tate was red in the face, and Isa looked stern and thoughtful. Yes; something had happened in St. Angé. It would never be the same.
Drew went outside the church and joined Filmer. He had seen the uplifted expression on Joyce's face. He had had his answer from on high; and he was strangely moved.
He stood beside Filmer, motionless and flushed. Jock contemplated him from his greater height as if he were a new and startling enigma.
"Say, kid," he drawled presently, striving to hide the excitement that was causing the perspiration to stand on his forehead; "what got into you?"
"I reckon it was something getting out of me," Drew replied with the short cough.