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 half-way. There was some whispering between them, and then I saw my friend deliberately take the old lady's arm, and walk towards the communion rails.

I stood as one petrified. What did it all mean? Who was this old woman? Where was Theresa? Was this her substitute, and was my friend mad enough to accept it? Apparently that was the case, for before I had recovered from my stupor the clergyman had entered, and was proceeding with the marriage service.

"Wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife?" and so on throughout the solemn charge; and Felix answered as in a dream—

"I will."

"Wilt thou have this man to thy wedded husband?" and the old woman at the altar echoed the affirmation in a singularly sweet and youthful voice. Surely I had heard it before? The hands might be the hands of another, but the voice was the voice of Theresa Meadows. Yet, though the name was shortly after repeated, I could scarcely accept the evidence of my ears. I followed the newly-married couple into the vestry, was called upon to append my name as witness, and there saw unmistakably the signature of Theresa Meadows.

Then there was no mistake? This was really she—in masquerade. What was the meaning of it? It lent darker colour to my sombre forebodings. I looked at Felix. He was pale to the lips. He spoke no word. He was evidently as much in the dark as myself. She had called upon him, in that hurried conference in the aisle, to accept or reject her. Felix had kept to his word—had carried out his compact—and, having done so, maintained an ominous silence, as though in scorn of the woman who had now the right to call him husband. The minister apparently regarded him with pity.

"Poor young man; thrown away upon so old a woman! Married her for her money, I suppose!" was evidently his mental comment.

A couple of poorly-clad women who stood at the church door gave more audible expression to their opinion.

"What d'ye think of that, 'Becca?" said one. "'Ere's a chap as 'as married his grandmother!"

"Well, I never!" said the other. "I thought as the marriage service was agen it. I knows it was when I was tied to my old man."

And still Felix did not speak; only pressed his lips the closer.

The drive to Mr. Steadman's house was the most sombre I have ever had. It was more like the return from a funeral than a wedding. Not a word was spoken.

When we reached the house we found a benevolent-looking, middle-aged lady, and a bevy of tittering girls (whom I afterwards discovered to be Theresa's aunt and cousins) awaiting our arrival. Theresa was about to introduce us.

"Not yet, please," said Felix, sternly. "I am first entitled to an explanation.