I thought the bride was Miss Dane.

I beg the ceremony will proceed." She pulled a veil she wore down over her gaunt face, and with the last word hurried out and disappeared.

Mr.Walraven, suppressing his rage, turned to the minister.
"Proceed!" he said, impatiently, "and make haste." The bride, very white with anger and mortification, resumed her place; the ceremony recommenced.

This time there was no interruption, and in ten minutes the twain were one flesh.
Half an hour later they were back at the Walraven mansion to eat the wedding-breakfast, and then the new-made Mrs.Walraven, with an eye that flashed and a voice that rang, turned upon her liege lord and demanded an explanation.

Mr.Walraven shrugged his shoulders deprecatingly.
"My dearest Blanche, I have none to give.