That broke me up entirely. A wire that I would start for Montreal at a certain date, was followed by my arrival there. Mr. Saltus was at the station. He was still thin but looking better. With a foresight scarcely to be expected he had arranged everything for our accommodation at the Windsor Hotel, dog included, and an application had been sent to the Board of Agriculture and Fisheries to take Toto into England. Over the details of our marriage however he had struck a snag. It was our desire to have the ceremony performed in the Roman Catholic Church, a form in which I had been educated. The ritual of the Church appealed very strongly to Mr. Saltus, as he believed it contained not only all the beauty and mysticism of the ancient mysteries but to his mind all the beauty and truth of Christianity as well. Owing to technicalities over his first marriage, and some uncertainty regarding baptism, this was found to be impossible. It was a severe disappointment to us both. A civil marriage was then decided upon. That, too, was out of the question. The Province of Quebec being under ecclesiastical law, we appeared to have struck an impasse, and a trip to Toronto seemed inevitable.
It was the middle of August and the heat was frightful. I told Mr. Saltus to make any arrangements he pleased provided I did not have to run around myself.
The following day he came up to me in Dominion Square, where I was sitting for a breath of air, reading a detective story, with Toto lying at my feet.
"Come along,—we are going to get married," he said, "and we have only time to walk to the church comfortably."
Mr. Saltus was never behindhand when he had decided to go anywhere. When starting to catch a train one could be sure that an hour at least would be spent at the station, while he walked restlessly to and fro fuming at the slowness of the clock.
"Let me go to the hotel to change my frock, and get rid of this detective story," I said.
"Change nothing. Come along as you are. You can put on all the frills after you cremate me,—if you have the courage to try it again."
He began pulling on my arm. It was nothing if not casual. After all, Toto was not concerned over our looks, and there was no one else but the clergyman, to whom we were complete strangers. Up Dorchester Street we sauntered. We were half an hour ahead of time as it was. Mr. Saltus fumbled in his pocket and brought out a ring. That was the most amusing and least expected part of it all. Time and again he had expressed himself on the subject of wedding rings with scorn. To him they appeared to be symbols of eternity between people for whom an eternity of misunderstanding was at that moment beginning. His views were my own. No symbol of servitude would, I had often remarked, weigh down a finger of mine. He handed it to me in silence, and in silence I looked at it, an unobtrusively thin band of gold with our initials, and the date and the word "Eternamente" inside. Smiling, I returned it and said nothing.
"It's going to hurt me cruelly if you won't wear it," he said at last. "I know I have made fun of such things, but this is my last wedding, and this is different. It means something more than I supposed a marriage could." He broke off and inquired, "By the way, what are you going to do with Babe when we get to the church?"