Down the festooned nave she came on his arm, her step unfaltering, her
face calm; black misery in her heart. Behind followed her aunt and
cousin and Lord Gervase. On Mr. Wilding's aquiline face a pale smile
glimmered, like a beam of moonlight upon tranquil waters, and it abode
there until they reached the porch and were suddenly confronted by
Nick Trenchard, red of face for once, perspiring, excited, and
dust-stained from head to foot.

He had arrived that very instant; and, urged by the fearful news that
brought him, he had come resolved to pluck Wilding from the altar be
the ceremony done or not. But in that he reckoned without Mr. Wilding
- for he should have known him better than to have hoped to succeed.
He stepped forward now, and gripped him with his dusty glove by the
sleeve of his shimmering bridegroom's coat. His voice came harsh with
excitement and smouldering rage.

"A word with you, Anthony!"


Mr. Wilding turned placidly to regard him. "What now?" he asked, his
bride's hand retained in the crook of his elbow.

"Treachery!" snapped Trenchard in a whisper. "Hell and damnation!
Step aside, man."

Mr. Wilding turned to Lord Gervase, and begged of him to take charge of
Mistress Wilding. "I deplore this interruption," he told her, no whit
ruffled by what he had heard. "But I shall rejoin you soon. Meanwhile,
his lordship will do the honours for me. This last he said with his