It was about that hour that Hunt in his position as verger once more appeared.  The church doors were opened to the community at large, the bells began to ring out a merry and bridal peal, and the inhabitants of the town, the rich and poor alike, filed into the church.

Mrs. Butler was right.  Long before eleven o’clock the building was packed.  Mrs. Bell was also right.  She communicated this fact to Mrs. Butler, who nodded in response.  Both ladies chuckled over their individual sagacity.

All the side aisles of the church began to fill.  It was really an imposing spectacle.  The weary inmates of the front pews felt they were reaping their rewards.

At a quarter to eleven some of the bridal guests appeared on the scene.  Those who had been especially invited by the Bertram family were magnificently attired, and occupied one or two seats reserved for them.

Then the bride’s-maids came.  They stood in groups near the door, waiting to follow the bride to her place at the altar.

Mrs. Bell turned her flushed face; looked down the church, and nodded to her girls.  She thought she had never seen anything so heavenly as the vision of her Matty in her bride’s-maid’s costume.  Her heart swelled so with exultation, that she could not help confiding some of her feelings to Mrs. Butler.

“Pooh, you’re a goose!” nodded back this good woman.  But a slow smile stole over her face as she said the words.

The moments flew on.  The organist took his place at the organ, the choir boys filed into their places.

At the end of the church the bride’s-maids looked nervously around.  Had any one listened very attentively they might have heard Matty Bell’s titter.

A thrill went through the waiting crowds.  The bridegroom had appeared; he was accompanied by a strange youth, a young officer from his regiment.  He walked slowly up the church, and took his place before the altar.

Bertram looked so handsome at this moment, so pale, so dignified, that every woman in the church fell in love with him.  Miss Peters sighed audibly, and even shed a tear for the memory of that Sam, who had never proposed for her, but had been attentive, and had died thirty years ago.

Matty Bell felt quite a little tumult in her heart.  No, no, whatever her mother might say her Bayard was not like Beatrice’s Bayard.  She did not even want to look at her Gusty this moment.

Bertram stood before the altar and waited.

The bride!

There was a little buzz through the church.  All the occupants of the pews rose; all heads were turned towards the door.  In the excitement of the moment the Beatricites clasped the Hartites by the hands, Mrs. 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?