"Oh, it can’t be, it can’t be," she cried. "Give me the paper. I had to show it to you, but now you’ve seen that it must be all false. Give it to me. Look, they are coming," she entreated. "Think of her, be ready for them. Oh, burn this. Can’t you? Can’t you?" and her eyes devoured him in an agony of pleading.
"Stop!" he said, drawing back his hand. Then in a moment, "Is any of it true, this wicked jest at a sacred thing? Was that all so?"
"Yes."
By this time the scene had become very different from the programme so carefully arranged. The bride and groom had indeed gone across the room and were standing before the minister. But the latter, so far from having made any preparations to begin the ceremony, stood with his eyes on the paper, his face more and more pale and perplexed.
"What is it?" cried Master Archdale, laying a hand on his shoulder.
"Yes, what does it all mean?" asked the Colonel, advancing toward the minister, and showing his irritation by his frown, his flush, and the abruptness of his speech usually so suave.
"I hardly know myself," returned Shurtleff looking from one to the other.
"Let us have the ceremony at once, then," said Master Archdale authoritatively. "Why should we delay?"
"I cannot, until I have looked into this," answered the minister in a respectful tone.
"Nonsense," cried the Colonel with an authority that few contested. "Proceed at once."