Cynthia. Ah,—that's it—nature! [Matthew shakes his head.] I've a great mind to throw the reins on nature's neck.
Philip. Matthew! [He moves to take his stand for the ceremony.
Matthew. [Looks at Philip. To Cynthia.] Philip is ready. [Philip comes forward and the organ plays the wedding march.
Cynthia. [To herself, as if at bay.] Ready? Ready? Ready?
Matthew. Cynthia, you will take Miss Heneage's arm. [Miss Heneage moves stiffly nearer to the table.] Sarah! [He waves Miss Heneage in the direction of Cynthia, at which she advances a joyless step or two. Matthew goes over to give the choir a low direction.] Now please don't forget, my boys. When I raise my hands so, you begin, "Enduring love, sweet end of strife," etc. [Cynthia has risen. On the table by which she stands is her long lace cloak. Matthew assumes sacerdotal importance and takes his position inside the altar of flowers.] Ahem! Philip! [He signs to Philip to take his position.] Sarah! [Cynthia breathes fast, and supports herself against the table. Miss Heneage, with the silent air of a martyr, goes toward her and stands for a moment looking at her.] The ceremony will now begin.
The organ plays Mendelssohn's wedding march. Cynthia turns and faces Miss Heneage. Miss Heneage slowly reaches Cynthia and extends her hand in her readiness to lead the bride to the altar.
Miss Heneage. Mrs. Karslake!
Philip. Ahem! [Matthew walks forward two or three steps. Cynthia stands as if turned to stone.
Matthew. My dear Cynthia. I request you—to take your place. [Cynthia moves one or two steps as if to go up to the altar. She takes Miss Heneage's hand and slowly they walk toward Matthew.] Your husband to be—is ready, the ring is in my pocket. I have only to ask you the—eh—necessary questions,—and—eh—all will be blissfully over in a moment.
[The organ grows louder.