She began to read.
"_I require and charge you both, as ye will answer at the dreadful day of judgment when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed.

.

._" How tremendously solemn and searching it sounded! She never remembered being struck with the awfulness of matrimony when she had so light-heartedly attended the weddings of her girl friends.

Her principal recollection was of small, white-surpliced choir-boys shrilly singing "The Voice that breathed o'er Eden," and then, for a brief space, of a confused murmur of responsive voices, the clergyman and the bride and bridegroom dividing the honours fairly evenly between them, while the congregation rustled their wedding garments as they craned forward in their efforts to obtain a good view of the bride.
Followed the withdrawal into the vestry for the signing of the register, when everybody seemed to be kissing everybody else with considerable lack of discrimination.

Finally, to the inspiriting strains of Mendelssohn--who evidently saw nothing sad or sorrowful in a wedding, but only joy and triumph and the completing of life--the whole company, bride and bridegroom, relatives and guests, trooped down the aisle and dwindled away in cars and carriages, to meet once more, like an incoming tide, at the house of the bride's parents.
But this!.