To poor, reluctant Edith the whole affair had been utterly distasteful and repulsive.
Indeed, she had felt as if she was almost guilty of a crime in allowing herself to participate lightly in anything of so sacred a nature, and, throughout the entire ceremony, she had shivered and trembled with mingled nervousness and repugnance.
When the ring—an unusually massive circlet of gold—had been slipped upon her finger, she had involuntarily tried to withdraw her hand from the clasp of the man who was holding it, a sensation of deadly faintness almost overpowering her for the moment.
But feeling that she must not fail madam and spoil everything at this last moment, she braced herself to go on with the farce (?) to the end.
She was so relieved when it was ended, so eager to get away from the place and have the dread ordeal over, that she scarcely heard a word the clergyman uttered while congratulating her. She was dimly conscious of the clasp of his hand and the sound of his voice, but did not even notice the hated name by which he addressed her.
Neither had she once glanced at the groom, though as he took her hand and laid it upon his arm, when they turned to go out, she wondered vaguely why he should continue to hold it clasped in his, and what made his clinging fingers tremble so.
But Emil Correlli, now that his scheme was accomplished, led her, with an air of mingled triumph and joy which sat well upon him, directly out to the ladies' dressing-room, where they found madam alone awaiting them.
She could not have been whiter if she had been dead, and her teeth were actually chattering with nervousness as the two came toward her, Edith still with bowed head and downcast eyes—her brother beaming with the exultation he could not conceal.
But she braced herself to meet them with a brave front.
"Dear child, you went through it beautifully," she said, in a caressing voice as she took Edith into her arms and kissed her upon the forehead. "Let me thank and congratulate you—and you also, Emil."