Marie stopped dead. All power of movement had deserted her. A wave of crimson surged over her face, rushing away again and leaving her as white as the little rose which she wore in her black frock.
Chris slipped a hand through her arm. He was afraid that she was going to faint. He was feeling pretty bad himself.
"Well, is it so dreadful to think about?" he asked with a mirthless laugh.
"Dreadful!" She found her voice with a gasp. The sudden rapture that flooded her heart was almost unbearable. But for his arm in hers, she was sure she would have fallen.
There was a seat close by, and Chris made her sit down. He sat beside her and stared at his feet while she recovered a little, then he looked up with a strained smile.
"Well, do you think you could put up with me for the rest of your life?" he asked.
Marie's face was radiant. Nobody could ever have said then that she was not pretty. Her eyes were like stars. She seemed to have blossomed all at once into perfect womanhood.
She wanted to say so many things to him, but no words would come. She just gave him her hand, and his fingers closed hard about it.
For a little they sat without speaking, while through the open doors of the cathedral came the wonderful strains of the organ. Then suddenly it ceased, and Chris took his hand away as if the spell that had been laid upon them was broken.
He rose to his feet, looking a little abashed.