windows were so shadowed by the waiting bridesmaids that
the light did not fall in full glare upon her, and it was not strange they
did not know her at once. She heard their smothered exclamations of wonder
and admiration, and one, Kate's dearest friend, whispered softly behind
her: "Oh, Kate, why did you keep us waiting, you sly girl! How lovely you
are! You look like an angel straight from heaven."

There were other whispered words which Marcia heard sadly. They gave her
no pleasure. The words were for Kate, not her. What would they say when
they knew all?

There was David in the distance waiting for her. How fine he looked in his
wedding clothes! How proud Kate might have been of him! How pitiful was
his white face! He had summoned his courage and put on a mask of happiness
for the eyes of those who saw him, but it could not deceive the heart of
Marcia. Surely not since the days when Jacob served seven years for Rachel
and then lifted the bridal veil to look upon the face of her sister Leah,
walked there sadder bridegroom on this earth than David Spafford walked
that day.

Down the stairs and through the wide hall they came, Marcia not daring to
look up, yet seeing familiar glimpses as she passed. That green plaid silk
lap at one side of the parlor door, in which lay two nervous little hands
and a neatly folded pocket handkerchief, belonged to Sabrina Bates, she
knew; and the round lace collar a little farther on, fastened by the
brooch with a colored daguerreotype encircled by a braid of faded brown
hair under glass, must be about the neck of Aunt Polly. There was not
another brooch like that in New York state, Marcia felt sure. Beyond were
Uncle Joab's small meek Sunday boots, toeing in, and next were little feet
covered by white stockings and slippers fastened with crossed black
ribbons, some child's, not Harriet--Marcia dared not raise her eyes to
identify them now. She must fix her mind upon the great things before her.
She wondered at herself for noticing such trivial things when she was
walking up to the presence of the great God, and there before her stood
the minister with his open book!

Now, at last, with the most of the audience behind her, shut in by the
film of lace, she could raise her eyes to the minister's familiar face,
take David's arm without letting her hand tremble much, and listen to the
solemn words read out to her. For her alone they seemed to be read.
David's heart she knew was crushed, a