"It sounds to me much more like a commination service.

Doesn't it frighten you ?" "Not a bit." Penelope's serenely happy eyes confirmed her quick denial.
"Well"-- Nan regarded her contemplatively--"it rubs in all the dreadful things that may happen to you--like ill-health, and poverty, and 'for worse'-- whatever that may mean--and dins into your ears the fact that nothing but death can release you." "You're looking at the wrong side of it, Nan.

It seems to me to show just exactly _how much_ a husband and wife may be to each other, and how--together--they can face all the ills that flesh is heir to." "Reminds one of a visit to the dentist--you can screw your courage up more easily if someone goes with you," remarked Nan grimly.
"You're simply determined to look on the ugly side of things," protested Penelope.
"And yet, Penny dear, at one time you used to scold me for being too idealistic in my notions!" But Penelope declined to shift from her present standpoint.
"And now you're expecting so little that, when your turn comes, you'll be beautifully disappointed," she remarked as she left the room in order to finish some odds and ends of packing.
* * * * * * In her capacity of sole bridesmaid Nan followed Penelope's tall, white-clad figure up the aisle.

Each step they made was taking her friend further away from her--nearer to the man whom the next half-hour would make her husband.

With a swift leap of the imagination, she visioned herself in Penelope's place, leaning on Lord St.John's arm--and the man who waited for her at the chancel steps was Roger! She swayed a moment, then by an immense effort forced herself back to the reality of things, following steadily once more in the wake of her uncle and Penelope.
There seemed to her something dream-like in their slow progression.
The atmosphere was heavy with the scent of flowers, a sea of blurred faces loomed up at her from the pews on either side, and the young, sweet voices of the choristers soared high above the organ.