Mr. William Barlow was silently passing the water, when Brother Mark
arrived with the minister.
That grave dignitary advanced with measured tread to a small stand,
draped with a long white sheet, that had been prepared for him in the
centre of the room.
He took off his gloves, and folded them; he took off his overcoat, and
laid it on the back of a chair; and if he had then reached down into his
pockets and taken out a rope, and proceeded to adjust a hanging-noose,
his audience could not have shown a more ghastly and breathless interest
in his performance.
"Will the parties"--his sonorous voice resounded through the awful
stillness--"Will the parties--about--to be joined--in holy
wedlock--now--come forward?"
As Lovell then arose and walked, with an automatic hitch in his legs,
across the room to his bride, there was about him all the stiffness and
pallor of the grave without its smile of peace.
"Lovell and Nancy"--arose the deep intonation--will you--now--join hands?
It was a warm strong hand in the green kid glove. Its grasp might have
sent a thrill of life through Lovell's rigid frame, for when the minister
inquired:
"And do you, Lovell, take this woman?" etc.
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