The snow lay white and cold on the fields and hills about
Briarsfield, but in the old church all was warmth and light. A group of
villagers were gathered inside, most of them from curiosity, and before
the altar Arthur and Beth were standing side by side. Beth looked very
beautiful as she stood there in her white bridal robes. The church was
still, sacredly still, but for the sound of Mr. Perth's earnest voice;
and in the rear of the crowd was one face, deadly pale, but calm. It was
Clarence. How pure she looked, he thought. Pure as the lilies hanging in
clusters above her head! Was she of the earth--clay, like these others
about her? The very tone of her voice seemed to have caught a note from
above. No, he had never been worthy of her! Weak, fickle, wave-tossed
soul that he was! A look of humiliation crossed his face, then a look of
hope. If he had never been worthy of her hand he would be worthy at
least to have loved her in vain. He would be what she would have had him
be. It was over; the last words were said; the music broke forth, and
the little gold band gleamed on Beth's fair hand as it lay on Arthur's
arm. He led her down the aisle, smiling and happy.
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