rather behind the time, I think--isn't she?" said the
reverend gentleman, with mild suggestiveness.

"Behind the time?" said Jack, fumbling at his watch; "why, so she is;
why, it's twenty minutes to one. By Jove!"

"Perhaps you mistook the hour," hinted the clergyman.

"Mistook it? Not a bit of it," cried Jack, who looked puzzled and
bewildered. "The hour? I'm as confident it was twelve as I'm confident
of my existence. Not a bit of doubt about that."

"Perhaps something's happened," said I; "hadn't I better drive round to
the house, Jack?"

"Yes; not a bad idea," said Jack. "I'll go too. I can't stand it any
longer. I've read the ten commandments through seventy-nine times, and
was trying to work up to a hundred, when, you interrupted me. Do you
know, old chap--I feel out of sorts; that brandy's got to my head--I'd
like a little fresh air. Besides, I can't stand this waiting any
longer. If it's got to be--why, the sooner the better. Have it out--and
be done with it, I say. A fellow don't want to stand all day on the
scaffold waiting for the confounded hangman--does he?"

Jack spoke wildly, cynically, and desperately. Old Fletcher listened to
these words with a face so full of astonishment and horror, that it has
haunted me ever since. And so we turned away, and we left that stricken
old man looking after us in amazement and horror too deep for words.

Jack's spirits had flushed up for a moment into a fitful light; but the
next moment they sank again into gloom. We walked slowly down the
aisle, and, as we passed down, the spectators, seeing us go out, rose
from their seats with the evident conviction that the affair was
postponed, and the determination to follow. Jack's carriage was at the
door, and we drove off.

"Macrorie, my boy," said Jack.

"What?"

"You didn't bring your flask, I suppose," said Jack, gloomily.

"No," said I; "and it's well I didn't, for I think you've done enough
of that sort of thing to-day."

"To-day? This is the day of all days when I ought. How else can I keep
up? I must stupefy myself, that's all. You don't know, old boy, how
near I am to doing something desperate."

"Come, Jack, don't knock under that way. Confound it, I thought you had
more spirit."

"Why the deuce does she drive me mad with her delay?" cried Jack, a
few minutes after. "Why doesn't she come and be done with it? Am I to
spend the whole day waiting for her? By Jove, I've a great mind to go
home, and, if she