IN AT THE DEATH.
St. Martin's Church did not wear a very festival appearance. It looks
more like a funeral than a marriage, that is about to take place, said
Ben to himself, as he quietly entered that edifice on the following
morning and seated himself in the dark corner of a dark pew, where he
could observe what transpired without being himself noticed.
A few idlers, evidently people who seeing a church door open thought it
as good a place to sit down and rest as any that would offer, dropped
in and sat in the rear seats. One had several bundles, evidently a
clerk taking a purchase to the home of a customer who sought the
opportunity to rest his arms and legs among the cushions of St.
Martin's. Some well dressed people, probably strangers in the city, sat
in respectful silence while they examined the edifice with their eyes.
A country couple chatted pleasantly together, and now and then indulged
in a little laugh, followed by a great deal of whispering. Near them a
man sat down with a large paper of peanuts, which he was contentedly
devouring when the sexton politely suggested that he either put them
up or swallow the shells.
It was evidently to be a private affair. The church was dark and
gloomy, and only the shutters of the chancel windows were opened,
throwing a faint, mysterious light upon the long queer-looking line of
empty pews.
Presently the officiating minister entered the chancel from a door in
the rear, clothed in his long white surplice, and sat down while his
eyes investigated the inside of a prayer-book, and kept glancing over
the top of it and down the main aisle as though impatient for their
coming. Then the sound of wheels were heard without, the organ startled
those within by breaking out in a peal of sacred melody, and through
the open doors came the bridal party. Bertha leaned on the arm of her
uncle. She was dressed richly, but quietly, in a travelling suit, as
though the intention was to commence the wedding tour at the chancel
railing. She was very, very pale, and the great, glorious, grey eyes
seemed to cover her whole face, and looked _black_ in their intensity.
But her head was erect and her step firm. She knew what she was doing,
she had counted the cost. She was accepting a lifetime of misery that
she might give a home to those she loved. Ben's breath came short and
thick, and his hands worked nervously as his eyes were fastened upon
her. An elderly lady, the aunt of Miss Ford, was brought in on the arm
of Arthur Blackoat. Blackoat looked triumphant. He was a trifle pale,
and his swarthy countenance in the dim light looked sallow. But his
dark eye flashed out the "success" that was crowning his desires, and
he looked impatient for the ceremony to proceed. A dozen ladies and
gentlemen, friends of the Brasters, had entered the church with them,
and among them Ben was surprised to see none other than Mr. Jonah
Nipper, in company with a very well dressed dignified gentleman of
middle age. These two sat a little apart from the rest.
Presently Bertha Ford and Arthur Blackoat stood at the chancel railing
alone and the beautiful marriage service of the Episcopal Church was
commenced by the officiating clergyman.
Ben could hardly comprehend what was taking place; could hardly realize
that the woman he so adored was being every moment separated farther
and farther from him by a chasm that could never be bridged over for
his hopes to cross on. Then his ears caught the solemn words:
"Into this holy estate these two persons come now to be joined. If any
man can show just cause why they may not be lawfully joined together
let him now speak or else hereafter forever hold his peace."
Cleveland could hardly restrain himself from shouting out:
"I do! The woman loves _me_!"
Bah, Ben. Don't make a fool of yourself. _That_ is not a "_just cause_."
There being no interruption the clergyman continued:
"I require and charge you both, as ye will answer at the dreadful day
of judgment, when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed, that if
either of you know any impediment why ye may not be lawfully joined
together in matrimony ye do now confess it. (Blackoat was steadying
himself with one hand on the chancel railing.) For be ye well assured
that if any persons are joined together otherwise than as God's word
doth allow their marriage is not lawful."
Blackoat released the railing and stood erect, but his face was very
pale and his eyes rested steadily on his feet. Turning to him the
minister asked:
"Wilt thou have this woman to be thy wedded wife, to live together
after God's ordinance in the holy state of matrimony? Wilt thou love
her, comfort her, honor her and keep her in sickness and in health, and
forsaking all others keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall
live?"
And Blackoat answered:
"I will."
"YOU LIE!"
The words rang out clear and sharp. They resounded through the edifice.
Echoed along the galleries. Rebounded back from the chancel, and filled
the whole interior with a cold, metallic startling ring. All present
sprang to their feet and looked in amazement down the main aisle.
Blackoat, of all there, did not turn his head. Had he been cast of
bronze he could not have been more motionless, more dead.
"Who interrupts the ceremony?" asked the minister recovering from his
surprise.
"_I do!_" and a lithe form in male attire bounded up the aisle and
stood in front of the chancel rail. "I do! HIS LAWFUL WIFE!"
It was TOMMY!
To his dying day Ben will never forget the horror his eyes then saw.
The church had the stillness of death. Not a muscle moved of those
there gathered. Eyes starting from their sockets reached for the mass
at the chancel rail, but motion there was none. All might have been
chiselled out of stone. Pale as death the figure clad in male attire
stood between the woman and man, a hand extended repelling the one, a
hand upraised denouncing the other, two glittering brown eyes fastened
on the man's face. And the man--slowly he turned upon his feet, as
though some mechanism moved an inanimate object. Slowly came he round
and faced the glittering eyes. _The eyes of the dead!_ And as he faced
them the sallow of his countenance turned to the white of clay, his
jaw dropped upon his breast, revealing, in ghastly display, his white
teeth. And up, up, up, from the ground came his eyes, until they rested
on the white face before him. Then in a yell that called a responsive
shriek from all present, _he_ shrieked, "GOD ALMIGHTY!" and
fell back--DEAD.