There was no color about her except in her red burnished hair and her red, curved mouth.
And the whole company thrilled as she came up the aisle.

She looked like the Princess in a fairy tale--but just come to life.
The organ stopped playing, and now, as in a dream she knew that she was kneeling beside Tristram and that the Bishop had joined their hands.
She repeated the vows mechanically, in a low, quiet voice.

All the sense of it that came to her brain was Tristram's firm utterance, "I, Tristram Lorrimer Guiscard, take thee, Zara Elinka, to be my wedded wife." And so, at last, the ceremony was over, and Lord and Lady Tancred walked into the vestry to sign their names.

And as Zara slipped her hand from the arm of her newly-made husband he bent down his tall head and kissed her lips; and, fortunately, the train of coming relations and friends were behind them, as yet, and the Bishops were looking elsewhere, or they would have been startled to observe the bride shiver, and to have seen the expression of passionate resentment which crept into her face.
But the bridegroom saw it, and it stabbed his heart.
Then it seemed that a number of people kissed her: his mother and sisters, and Lady Ethelrida, and, lastly, the Duke.
"I am claiming my privilege as an old man," this latter said gayly, "and I welcome you to all our hearts, my beautiful niece." And Zara had answered, but had hardly been able to give even a mechanical smile.
And when they got into the smart, new motor, after passing through the admiring crowds, she had shrunk into her corner, and half closed her eyes.

And Tristram, intensely moved and strained with the excitement of it all, had not known what to think.
But pride made his bride play her part when they reached her uncle's house.
She stood with her bridegroom, and bowed graciously to the countless, congratulatory friends of his, who passed and shook hands.