"Now we'll slip out," Antony began, when all at once a slender young man sprang to the door of the brougham, wrenched it open, seized Antony's hand, and burst into a torrent of language.
"Well, you took your time, didn't you? At last! Ritchie was sick 93 with rage--till we got the telegram. How's Auguste? Car gave out, of course. Poor Emily felt dreadfully. Miss---excuse me, but all I can think of is Gertrude, you can just get in--dash over to the cloister and they've left a place, So glad to have met you-- yes, indeed. This is Williamson. Please ask for mother's carriage directly the ceremony is over--we're going to form an arch or something at the house. Hurry up, old man--I had all your work. The rest are in by this time, but I have to attend to the carriages and you are to take in the late ones. Family on left of white ribbons-- for heaven's sake, Miss Gertrude--run!"
He dragged Nette from the step and raced her toward the church; she lifted her skirts and skimmed like a swallow beside him. Antony stumbled to the puffing old coachman, pulled all the silver out of his pocket and handed it to him mechanically.
"Thank you kindly, sir--I did my best. So many not knowing either you or the young lady, sir, it was 'ard for us, but I did my best. She looks beautiful, they tell me--h'isn't that some one waving for you, sir?" 94
Antony ran wildly towards the church door, whence issued a pompous and familiar peal from the organ; a strongly accented march, to whose measures, he reflected dizzily, no one whom he had yet encountered had ever been able to adapt his steps. He peered up the little, crowded aisle. Half-way along it paced a solemn party of young men; four visions of mauve and feathers followed them, and even as he removed his hat four more hurried past him and entered the door. They were in couples, each bearing a great armful of white and purple sweet peas, and the maiden nearest him in the last couple, flushed and panting, with one bare arm, was none other than poor Uncle Julius's godmother's own daughter's stepdaughter! She moved demurely, her eyes downcast, the great pearl rising with her quick breath, and Antony wiped the troubled sweat from his brow. A stir behind him, a murmured, sighing tribute, and the bride was passing by. White as the lilies in her hands, a frostlike veil falling over her glistening train, she glided beside her portly father, and the crowded little church turned to mark her passage as a hedge of sunflowers seeks the sun.
Antony sighed and turned to confront a massive lady swathed in 95 rose-coloured satin and variously adorned with precious stones of all colours. She fixed him with a protruding grey eye and directed toward him a hissing whisper.
"I am the bride's Aunt!" she declared. Antony stared vaguely at her.
"And I hope there is a seat well to the front," she continued severely, if hoarsely.
With a shock of comprehension Antony thrust forward his arm.