" The clergyman opens his book.
The formalities have been observed; his duty lies plainly before him.
Attention, Launcelot! Courage, Natalie! The service begins.
Launce casts a last furtive look round the church. Will Sir Joseph
Graybrooke start up and stop it from one of the empty pews? Is Richard
Turlington lurking in the organ-loft, and only waiting till the words of
the service appeal to him to prohibit the marriage, or "else hereafter
forever to hold his peace?" No. The clergyman proceeds steadily,
and nothing happens. Natalie's charming face grows paler and paler,
Natalie's heart throbs faster and faster, as the time comes nearer for
reading the words which unite them for life. Lady Winwood herself feels
an unaccustomed fluttering in the region of the bosom. Her ladyship's
thoughts revert, not altogether pleasantly, to her own marriage: "Ah
me! what was I thinking of when I was in this position? Of the bride's
beautiful dress, and of Lady Winwood's coming presentation at court!"
The service advances to the words in which they plight their troth.
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