Eugene Mallard and Miss Fernly looked into each other's faces, and their lips were mute.
"Let me go to her and tell her my story," sobbed the hapless bride, "then I will go away, and you shall never look upon my face again!"
"That would not mend matters," replied Eugene Mallard. "I have married you, and nothing can undo that."
"Oh, do not say so!" cried Ida May. "I will free you from the bond whose links have just been forged. You shall have a divorce. I will set you free!"
Eugene Mallard shook his head.
"You would do so if you could," he answered; "but, alas! you can not. Those whom God hath joined together no one has the right to put asunder."
With a sigh that nearly rent his heart, he rose to his feet. The carriage still stood in waiting at the door.
"Where are you going?" asked Miss Fernly.
"We will all three go to Hildegarde, and break it as gently as we can to her—tell her what has happened—break the sad story to her as gently as we can," Eugene repeated.
As one whose feet refused to do her bidding, Miss Fernly tottered up the aisle behind them. What would Hildegarde say—what would she do? Perhaps she would fall dead at their feet, for she loved, with all the passionate love of her heart, the man whom she had promised to wed on the morrow.