Bell's fat fingers rested on Mrs. Butler's shoulder.
The bride! She had come. Beatrice would marry Loftus Bertram. The
Beatricites would conquer. Slander would die.
No, no. What was the matter? What was wrong? Was anything wrong?
A girl dressed in shimmering bridal clothes was walking up the church.
A very slender and very pale girl. She was leaning on Mr. Ingram's arm;
she was beautiful. There was an expression on her face which melted
hearts, and made eyes brim over with tears. A bride was coming up the
church--not Beatrice Meadowsweet--not the girl who was beloved by all
the town.
Close behind the bride followed the principal bride's-maid. She was in a
plain dress of white. Round her head she wore a wreath of white lilies,
and in her hand she carried a bouquet of white flowers.
The other bride's-maids wore green silk sashes, and green with the
marguerites which trimmed their broad hats.
"May God have mercy on us!" exclaimed Mrs. Butler.
She made this remark aloud; it was distinctly heard, and Beatrice, as
she passed the good lady, turned and gave her a swift bright smile.
The bride joined the bridegroom before the altar, and the bishop, who
was to perform the ceremony, began the marriage service:
"I, Loftus, take thee, Josephine--"
When these words were uttered Mrs.
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