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- Уилки Коллинз
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The
wedding
was
strictly
private
.
A
close
carriage
stood
at
the
church
door
;
a
few
people
,
mostly
of
the
lower
class
,
and
mostly
old
women
,
were
scattered
about
the
interior
of
the
building
.
Here
and
there
Doctor
Wybrow
detected
the
faces
of
some
of
his
brethren
of
the
club
,
attracted
by
curiosity
,
like
himself
.
Four
persons
only
stood
before
the
altar
—
the
bride
and
bridegroom
and
their
two
witnesses
.
One
of
these
last
was
an
elderly
woman
,
who
might
have
been
the
Countess
’
s
companion
or
maid
;
the
other
was
undoubtedly
her
brother
,
Baron
Rivar
.
The
bridal
party
(
the
bride
herself
included
)
wore
their
ordinary
morning
costume
.
Lord
Montbarry
,
personally
viewed
,
was
a
middle
-
aged
military
man
of
the
ordinary
type
:
nothing
in
the
least
remarkable
distinguished
him
either
in
face
or
figure
.
Baron
Rivar
,
again
,
in
his
way
was
another
conventional
representative
of
another
well
-
known
type
.
One
sees
his
finely
-
pointed
moustache
,
his
bold
eyes
,
his
crisply
-
curling
hair
,
and
his
dashing
carriage
of
the
head
,
repeated
hundreds
of
times
over
on
the
Boulevards
of
Paris
.
The
only
noteworthy
point
about
him
was
of
the
negative
sort
—
he
was
not
in
the
least
like
his
sister
.
Even
the
officiating
priest
was
only
a
harmless
,
humble
-
looking
old
man
,
who
went
through
his
duties
resignedly
,
and
felt
visible
rheumatic
difficulties
every
time
he
bent
his
knees
.
The
one
remarkable
person
,
the
Countess
herself
,
only
raised
her
veil
at
the
beginning
of
the
ceremony
,
and
presented
nothing
in
her
plain
dress
that
was
worth
a
second
look
.
Never
,
on
the
face
of
it
,
was
there
a
less
interesting
and
less
romantic
marriage
than
this
.
From
time
to
time
the
Doctor
glanced
round
at
the
door
or
up
at
the
galleries
,
vaguely
anticipating
the
appearance
of
some
protesting
stranger
,
in
possession
of
some
terrible
secret
,
commissioned
to
forbid
the
progress
of
the
service
.
Nothing
in
the
shape
of
an
event
occurred
—
nothing
extraordinary
,
nothing
dramatic
.
Bound
fast
together
as
man
and
wife
,
the
two
disappeared
,
followed
by
their
witnesses
,
to
sign
the
registers
;
and
still
Doctor
Wybrow
waited
,
and
still
he
cherished
the
obstinate
hope
that
something
worth
seeing
must
certainly
happen
yet
.
The
interval
passed
,
and
the
married
couple
,
returning
to
the
church
,
walked
together
down
the
nave
to
the
door
.
Doctor
Wybrow
drew
back
as
they
approached
.
To
his
confusion
and
surprise
,
the
Countess
discovered
him
.
He
heard
her
say
to
her
husband
,
’
One
moment
;
I
see
a
friend
.
’
Lord
Montbarry
bowed
and
waited
.
She
stepped
up
to
the
Doctor
,
took
his
hand
,
and
wrung
it
hard
.
He
felt
her
overpowering
black
eyes
looking
at
him
through
her
veil
.
’
One
step
more
,
you
see
,
on
the
way
to
the
end
!
’
She
whispered
those
strange
words
,
and
returned
to
her
husband
Before
the
Doctor
could
recover
himself
and
follow
her
,
Lord
and
Lady
Montbarry
had
stepped
into
their
carriage
,
and
had
driven
away
.
Outside
the
church
door
stood
the
three
or
four
members
of
the
club
who
,
like
Doctor
Wybrow
,
had
watched
the
ceremony
out
of
curiosity
.
Near
them
was
the
bride
’
s
brother
,
waiting
alone
.
He
was
evidently
bent
on
seeing
the
man
whom
his
sister
had
spoken
to
,
in
broad
daylight
.
His
bold
eyes
rested
on
the
Doctor
’
s
face
,
with
a
momentary
flash
of
suspicion
in
them
.
The
cloud
suddenly
cleared
away
;
the
Baron
smiled
with
charming
courtesy
,
lifted
his
hat
to
his
sister
’
s
friend
,
and
walked
off
.
The
members
constituted
themselves
into
a
club
conclave
on
the
church
steps
.
They
began
with
the
Baron
.
’
Damned
ill
-
looking
rascal
!
’
They
went
on
with
Montbarry
.
’
Is
he
going
to
take
that
horrid
woman
with
him
to
Ireland
?
’
’
Not
he
!
he
can
’
t
face
the
tenantry
;
they
know
about
Agnes
Lockwood
.
’
’
Well
,
but
where
is
he
going
?
’
’
To
Scotland
.
’
’
Does
she
like
that
?
’
’
It
’
s
only
for
a
fortnight
;
they
come
back
to
London
,
and
go
abroad
.
’
’
And
they
will
never
return
to
England
,
eh
?
’
’
Who
can
tell
?
Did
you
see
how
she
looked
at
Montbarry
,
when
she
had
to
lift
her
veil
at
the
beginning
of
the
service
?
In
his
place
,
I
should
have
bolted
.
Did
you
see
her
,
Doctor
?
’
By
this
time
,
Doctor
Wybrow
had
remembered
his
patients
,
and
had
heard
enough
of
the
club
gossip
.
He
followed
the
example
of
Baron
Rivar
,
and
walked
off
.
’
One
step
more
,
you
see
,
on
the
way
to
the
end
,
’
he
repeated
to
himself
,
on
his
way
home
.
’
What
end
?
’
On
the
day
of
the
marriage
Agnes
Lockwood
sat
alone
in
the
little
drawing
-
room
of
her
London
lodgings
,
burning
the
letters
which
had
been
written
to
her
by
Montbarry
in
the
bygone
time
.
The
Countess
’
s
maliciously
smart
description
of
her
,
addressed
to
Doctor
Wybrow
,
had
not
even
hinted
at
the
charm
that
most
distinguished
Agnes
—
the
artless
expression
of
goodness
and
purity
which
instantly
attracted
everyone
who
approached
her
.
She
looked
by
many
years
younger
than
she
really
was
.
With
her
fair
complexion
and
her
shy
manner
,
it
seemed
only
natural
to
speak
of
her
as
’
a
girl
,
’
although
she
was
now
really
advancing
towards
thirty
years
of
age
.
She
lived
alone
with
an
old
nurse
devoted
to
her
,
on
a
modest
little
income
which
was
just
enough
to
support
the
two
.
There
were
none
of
the
ordinary
signs
of
grief
in
her
face
,
as
she
slowly
tore
the
letters
of
her
false
lover
in
two
,
and
threw
the
pieces
into
the
small
fire
which
had
been
lit
to
consume
them
.
Unhappily
for
herself
,
she
was
one
of
those
women
who
feel
too
deeply
to
find
relief
in
tears
.
Pale
and
quiet
,
with
cold
trembling
fingers
,
she
destroyed
the
letters
one
by
one
without
daring
to
read
them
again
.
She
had
torn
the
last
of
the
series
,
and
was
still
shrinking
from
throwing
it
after
the
rest
into
the
swiftly
destroying
flame
,
when
the
old
nurse
came
in
,
and
asked
if
she
would
see
’
Master
Henry
,
’
—
meaning
that
youngest
member
of
the
Westwick
family
,
who
had
publicly
declared
his
contempt
for
his
brother
in
the
smoking
-
room
of
the
club
.
Agnes
hesitated
.
A
faint
tinge
of
colour
stole
over
her
face
.
