Part 14 (1/2)

The bride, although careworn and middle-aged, possessed a singularly sweet and attractive countenance--all the more attractive that it wore a habitual expression of sadness. It was a sympathetic face, too, because it was the index to a loving, sympathetic, Christian soul, and its ever-varying indications of feeling, lightened and subdued and modified, but never quite removed, the sadness.

The two who composed the remainder of this wedding party were young men, apparently in a higher position of life than the princ.i.p.als. The one was tall and strapping, the other rather small, but remarkably active and handsome. It was evident that they were deeply interested in the ceremony in which they took part, and the smaller of the two appeared to enjoy some humorous reminiscences occasionally, to judge from the expression of his face when his glance chanced to meet that of his tall friend.

As they were leaving the altar, the bridegroom bent down and murmured in a deep soft voice--

”It's like a dream, Martha. It ain't easy to believe that such good luck should come to the likes o' me.”

The bride whispered something in reply, which was inaudible to those who followed.

”Yes, Martha, yes,” returned the bridegroom; ”no doubt it is as you put it. But after all, there's only one of His sayin's that has gone right home to me. I've got it by heart _now_--`I came not to call the righteous, but _sinners_ to repentance.' 'Twould have bin all up with me long ago but for that, Martha.”

They reached the door at this point, got into a cab, and drove away.

The remainder of the wedding party left the little church on foot.

The same evening on which this event took place, the strapping young man and the little active youth sat together at the open window of a comfortable though small parlour, enjoying a cup of tea. The view from the window was limited, but it possessed the charm of variety; commanding as it did, a vista of chimney-pots of every shape and form conceivable--many of which were capped with those multiform and hideous contrivances, with which foolish man vainly endeavours to cure smoke.

”Well, Jim,” asked the strapping youth, as he gazed pensively on this prospect, ”what d'you think of it?”

”What do you refer to, Bob--our view or the wedding?”

”The wedding, of course.”

”It's hard to say,” replied Jim, musing. ”He seemed to be such an unmitigated scoundrel when we first made his acquaintance that it is difficult to believe he is a changed man now.”

”By which you mean to insinuate, Jim, that the Gospel is not sufficient for out-and-out blackguards; that it is only powerful enough to deal with such modified scoundrels as you and I were.”