She had never grown familiarized with the idea, perhaps because she would never indulge it, and now he was kneeling on the altar steps, with Frank Danton beside him, and Eeny at Grace's left hand, and the Cure and Father Francis were there in stole and surplice, and the ceremony was going on.

She saw the ring put on Grace's finger, she heard the Cure's French accented voice, "Henry Danton, wilt thou have Grace Danton to be thy wedded wife ?" and that firm, clear "I will," in reply.
Then it was all over; they were married.

Her pale face drooped on the front rail of the pew, and wet it with a rain of hot tears.
The wedding quartet were going into the sacristy to register their names.

She could linger no longer, although she felt as if she would like to stay there and die, so she arose and went wearily after.

Her father looked at her with anxious, imploring eyes; she went up and kissed him, with a smile on her colourless face.
"I hope you will be very happy, papa," she whispered.
And then she turned to Grace, and touched her cold lips to the bride's flushed cheek.
"I wish you very much happiness, Mrs.Danton," she said.
Yes, she could never be mother--she was only Mrs.Danton, her father's wife; but Father Francis gave her a kindly, approving glance, even for this.