he was not in the least like his sister. Even the officiating
priest was only a harmless, humble-looking old man, who went through
his duties resignedly, and felt visible rheumatic difficulties
every time he bent his knees. The one remarkable person,
the Countess herself, only raised her veil at the beginning
of the ceremony, and presented nothing in her plain dress that was
worth a second look. Never, on the face of it, was there a less
interesting and less romantic marriage than this. From time to time
the Doctor glanced round at the door or up at the galleries,
vaguely anticipating the appearance of some protesting stranger,
in possession of some terrible secret, commissioned to forbid
the progress of the service. Nothing in the shape of an event occurred--
nothing extraordinary, nothing dramatic. Bound fast together as man
and wife, the two disappeared, followed by their witnesses, to sign
the registers; and still Doctor Wybrow waited, and still he cherished
the obstinate hope that something worth seeing must certainly
happen yet.

The interval passed, and the married couple, returning to the church,
walked together down the nave to the door. Doctor Wybrow
drew back as they approached. To his confusion and surprise,
the Countess discovered him. He heard her say to her husband,
'One moment; I see a friend.' Lord Montbarry bowed and waited.
She stepped up to the Doctor, took his hand, and wrung it hard.
He felt her overpowering black eyes looking at him through
her veil. 'One step more, you see, on the way to the end!'
She whispered those strange words, and returned to her husband.
Before the Doctor could recover himself and follow her,
Lord and Lady Montbarry had stepped into their carriage, and had
driven away.