This time the echoing voice was a feminine one,
low and sweet, but clearly distinct, and vibrant
with joyous confidence, on through one after another
of the ever familiar, but ever impressive
phrases of the service that gives into the hands
of one man and of one woman the future happiness,
each of the other.


The wedding was at noon. That evening Mrs.
Kate Hartwell, sister of the bridegroom, wrote
the following letter:

BOSTON, July 15th.

``MY DEAR HUSBAND:--Well, it's all over
with, and they're married. I couldn't do one
thing to prevent it. Much as ever as they would
even listen to what I had to say--and when
they knew how I had hurried East to say it, too,
with only two hours' notice!

``But then, what can you expect? From time
immemorial lovers never did have any sense;
and when those lovers are such irresponsible
flutterbudgets as Billy and Bertram--!

``And such a wedding! I couldn't do anything
with _that_, either, though I tried hard. They had