in his festive array, with a face of
despair that was singularly at variance with his costume. Before
starting, in spite of my remonstrances, he swallowed another draught of
brandy. I began to doubt whether he would be able to stand up at the
ceremony.

St. Malachi's was not far away, and a few minutes' drive brought us
there.

The church was quite empty. A few stragglers, unknown to us, had taken
seats in the front pews. Old Fletcher was in the chancel. We walked up
and shook hands with him. He greeted Jack with an affectionate
earnestness of congratulation, which, I was sorry to see, was not
properly responded to.

After a few words, we all sat down in the choir.

It wanted about five minutes of the time.

The widow was expected every moment.

Old Fletcher now subsided into dignified silence. I fidgeted about, and
looked at my watch every half-minute. As for Jack, he buried his face
in his hands and sat motionless.

Thus four minutes passed.

No signs of the widow.

One minute still remained.

The time was very long.

I took out my watch a half-dozen times, to hasten its progress. I shook
it impatiently to make it go faster. The great empty church looked cold
and lonely. The little group of spectators only added to the loneliness
of the scene. An occasional cough resounded harshly amid the universal
stillness. The sibilant sounds of whispers struck sharply and
unpleasantly upon the ear.

At last the minute passed.

I began to think my watch was wrong; but no--for suddenly, from the
great bell above, in the church-tower, there tolled out the first
stroke of the hour. And between each stroke there seemed o long, long
interval, in which the mind had leisure to turn over and over all the
peculiarities of this situation.

ONE! I counted.

[No widow. What's up? Did any one ever hear of a bride missing the
hour, or delaying in this way?]

TWO!

[What a humbug of a woman! She has cultivated procrastination all her
life, and this is the result]

THREE!

[Not yet. Perhaps she wants to make a sensation. She anticipates a
crowded church, and will make an entrance in state.]

FOUR!

[But no; she did not invite anybody, and had no reason to suppose that
any one would be here.]

FIVE!

[No, it could not be vanity; but, if not, what can be the possible
cause?]

SIX!

[Can it be timidity, bashfulness, and all that sort of thing? Bosh! The
widow Finnimore is not a blushing, timid maiden.]

SEVEN