over to give the choir a low direction._] Now
please don't forget, my boys. When I raise my hands so, you begin,
"Enduring love, sweet end of strife," etc. [CYNTHIA _has risen. On the
table by which she stands is her long lace cloak._ MATTHEW _assumes
sacerdotal importance and takes his position inside the altar of
flowers._] Ahem! Philip! [_He signs to_ PHILIP _to take his
position._] Sarah! [CYNTHIA _breathes fast, and supports herself
against the table._ MISS HENEAGE, _with the silent air of a martyr,
goes toward her and stands for a moment looking at her._] The ceremony
will now begin.

_The organ plays Mendelssohn's wedding march._ CYNTHIA _turns
and faces_ MISS HENEAGE. MISS HENEAGE _slowly reaches_
CYNTHIA _and extends her hand in her readiness to lead the
bride to the altar._

MISS HENEAGE. Mrs. Karslake!

PHILIP. Ahem! [MATTHEW _walks forward two or three steps._ CYNTHIA
_stands as if turned to stone._

MATTHEW. My dear Cynthia. I request you--to take your place. [CYNTHIA
_moves one or two steps as if to go up to the altar. She takes_ MISS
HENEAGE'S _hand and slowly they walk toward_ MATTHEW.] Your husband to
be--is ready, the ring is in my pocket. I have only to ask you
the--eh--necessary questions,--and--eh--all will be blissfully over in
a moment.

[_The organ grows louder._

CYNTHIA. [_At this moment, just as she reaches_ PHILIP, _stops, faces
round, looks him_, MATTHEW, _and the rest in the face, and cries out
in despair._] Thomas! Call a hansom! [THOMAS _goes out, leaving the
door open._ MISS HENEAGE _crosses the room quickly_; MRS. PHILLIMORE,
_shocked into action, rises._ CYNTHIA _catches up her cloak from the
table._ PHILIP _turns and_ CYNTHIA _comes forward and stops._] I
can't, Philip--I can't. [_Whistle of hansom is heard off; the organ
stops._] It is simply a case of throwing the reins on nature's
neck--up anchor--and sit tight! [MATTHEW _moves to_ CYNTHIA.] Matthew,
don't come near me! Yes, yes, I distrust you. It's your business, and
you'd marry me if you could.

PHILIP. [_Watching her in dismay as she throws on her cloak._] Where
are you going?

CYNTHIA. I'm going to Jack.

PHILIP. What for?

CYNTHIA. To stop his marrying Vida. I'm blowing a hurricane inside, a
horrible, happy hurricane! I know myself--I know what's the matter
with me. If I married you and Miss Heneage--what's the use of talking
about it--he mustn't marry that woman. He sha'n't. [CYNTHI