It was dusk and snowing fast against the tiny-paned windows. The parlor glowed with a crackling fire. At one end of the small room the half-dozen guests murmured politely as though awaiting the arrival of the tea service and decanters. There was no atmosphere of special festivity.

Aaron, exactly as usual, made graceful desultory talk and quietly supervised everything. Joseph in a new coat of buff brocade seemed precisely the same young man who had left Richmond Hill four and a half months ago, silent and embarrassed. He had arrived yesterday evening, and Theo had not seen him alone. She herself wore a fine muslin frock embroidered in brilliants, one of those bought in New York before they left. But this was not unusual either. She had had many new white dresses, and this one could not compare in elegance to the one she had worn for her birthday party.

Only Natalie, who had of course accompanied them, experienced any of the emotions proper to a wedding. She huddled in a corner behind the fire screen, her handkerchief to her eyes, her kindly little mouth working. 'Pourvu qu'elle soit heureuse, cette pauvre Theo,' she horrified herself by murmuring. For Theo's total lack of animation, with none of the shy radiance one expected in a bride, smote Natalie's practical heart with dismay. She touched the crucifix around her neck and prayed for Theo to the Holy Mother who understands all things.

The Reverend Mr. Johnson swayed back and forth in front of the fireplace as he intoned the service. His long black coattails all but raked across the burning logs, and Theo watched them fascinated until he prompted her to each response.

Suddenly he stopped swaying. His ponderous Bible shut with a thud. It was all over.

Theo felt her father's arm draw her close to him, and in the same moment that she realized his arm trembled a little she looked up to see his eyes bright with moisture. He put his long delicate fingers on either side of her face and kissed her forehead. 'God bless you, my dear,' he whispered.

'Father——' She clung to him frantically, an hysterical sob crowding into her throat.

He shook his head slightly and put her from him. Beneath the tenderness of his gaze, she saw the familiar air of admonishment. 'Go to your husband, Theo. He is waiting to embrace you.'

Husband! The word struck through her brain. This thickset stranger with the curly black hair and petulant mouth—Husband! Terrifying and yet ludicrous too. Almost she could have laughed, as he stepped forward clumsily and kissed her on the mouth.

A smile rippled through the company, the half-sentimental, half-bawdy amusement reserved for weddings.

I'm quite alone, she thought, profoundly startled. No one understands—not even Father!

'Let us away to the wedding feast,' said Aaron lightly, herding them into the dining-room and lifting his glass in the first toast to the young couple.