St. Paul daily globe. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn.) 1884-1896, 1891-11-08

were ready with their hands on the
| ropes to ring out the merry peal as the
| bride and bridegroom should come out.
A murmur from the church announced
them; out they came. Byles was right.
| John CharrlngtOn did not look himself.
There was dust on his coat. his hair was
dlsarranged. He seemed to have been
In some row. for there was black mark
above his eyebrow. He was deathly
pale. But his palor was not greater
than that of the bride. who might have
been carved in ivory dress, veil, orange
blossoms and all.
As they passed out the ringers
! Stopped-there were six of them-and
| then. on the ears expecting the gay
| wedding peal came the slow tolIing of
| the passing bell.
A thrill of horror at so foolish lest
from the ringers passed through us all,
| But the ringers themselves dropped the
ropes and fed like rabbits down the
! belfry stairs. The bride shuddered, and
gray shadows came about her mouth.
but the bridegroom led her on down
/ the p ath where the people stood with
| the handfuIS of rice; but the handfuls
were never thrown, and the wedding
bells never rang. Iii vain the ringers
were urged to remedy their mistake:
| they protested with many whispered eX-
pletives that they would see themselves
further first.
In hush like the hush in the cham
Der OF death the bridal pair passed into
their carriage, and its door was slammed
| behind them.
| Then the tongues were loosed. A
| babel of anger, wonder, conjecture from
! the guests and the spectators.
IF I'd seen his condition, SIR" said
| old Forster to ME as we drove off, II
would have stretched him Oh the floor
of the church, sir, by heaven | would,
| before I'd have let him marry my
! daughter"
Then he put his head out of the win
| dow.
Drive like fury" he cried to the
| cOachman; don't spare the horses"
He was obeyed. We passed the
brides carriage. l forbore to look at
| it, and old Forster turned his head
away and swore. We reached home be-
fore it.
We stood in the hall doorway, in the
| blazing afternoon sun, and in about
half minute we heard wheels crunch
| ing the gravel. When the carriage
stopped in front of the steps old Forster
and / ran down.
Great heavens, the carriage is
! empty And yet"
this is what | saw:
No sign of John Charrington: and of
May, his wife, only a huddled heap of
white satin lying half on the floor of the
-, carriage and half on the seat.
| Il drove straight here. SIR" said the
coachman, as the brides father lifted
her out; land Pll swear no one got out
of the carriage"
We carried her into the house in he r
| bridal dress, and drew back her veil
| saw her face. Shall ever forget il?
White, white and drawn with agony
and horror, bearing such look of ter
| rOr as l have never seen since except in
dreams. And her hair, her radiant
blonde hair, tell you it was white like
snow.
AS we stood, her father and |. half
mad with the horror and the mystery of
1t, a boy came up the avenue-a tele-
graph boy. They brought the orange
envelope to me. tore it open.
MIR. Cha rringtOn was thrown from
his horse on his way to the station at
80. Killed on the spot"
And he was married to Nav Foster in
/ our parish church at 3 80 in presence of
! half the parish.
II shall be married, dead or alive!"
! What had passed in that carriage on
| the hOmeward drive, no one knows
no one will ever know. Oh, May oh,
my dear.
Before week was over they laid her
beside her h uSband in our little church
| yard on the thyme-cOVered hilI-the
! churchyard where they had kept their
| love tryStS.
Thus was accom- plished John Char
| ringtOn's wedding.