After she had learned of Rowan’s love for her and had begun to return his love, the altar had thenceforth become the more personal symbol of their destined happiness.  Every marriage that she witnessed bound her more sacredly to him.  Only a few months before this, at the wedding of the Osborns—­Kate being her closest friend, and George Osborn being Rowan’s—­he and she had been the only attendants; and she knew how many persons in the church were thinking that they might be the next to plight their vows; with crimsoning cheeks she had thought it herself.

Now there returned before Isabel’s eyes the once radiant procession of the brides—­but how changed!  And bitter questioning she addressed to each!  Had any such confession been made to any one of them—­either before marriage or afterwards—­by the man she had loved?  Was it for some such reason that one had been content to fold her hands over her breast before the birth of her child?  Was this why another lived on, sad young wife, motherless?  Was this why in the town there were women who refused to marry at all?  So does a little knowledge of evil move backward and darken for us even the bright years in which it had no place.

The congregation were assembling rapidly.  Among those who passed further down were several of the girls of Isabel’s set.  How fresh and sweet they looked as they drifted gracefully down the aisles this summer morning!  How light-hearted!  How far away from her in her new wretchedness!  Some, after they were seated, glanced back with a smile.  She avoided their eyes.

A little later the Osborns entered, the bride and groom of a few months before.  Their pew was immediately in front of hers.  Kate wore mourning for her mother.  As she seated herself, she lifted her veil halfway, turned and slipped a hand over the pew into Isabel’s.  The tremulous pressure of the fingers spoke of present trouble; and as Isabel returned it with a quick response of her own, a tear fell from the hidden eyes.

The young groom’s eyes were also red and swollen, but for other reasons; and he sat in the opposite end of the pew as far as possible from his wife’s side.  When she a few moments later leaned toward him with timidity and hesitation, offering him an open prayer-book, he took it coldly and laid it between them on the cushion.  Isabel shuddered:  her new knowledge of evil so cruelly opened her eyes to the full understanding of so much.

Little rime was left for sympathy with Kate.  Nearer the pulpit was another pew from which her thoughts had never been wholly withdrawn.  She had watched it with the fascination of abhorrence; and once, feeling that she could not bear to see him come in with his mother and younger brother, she had started to leave the church.  But just then her grandmother had bustled richly in, followed by her aunt; and more powerful with Isabel already than any other feeling was the wish to bury her secret—­Rowan’s secret—­in the deepest vault of consciousness, to seal it up forever from the knowledge of the world.