Lethbury. Jane marked her transition to the married
state by an appropriate but incongruous display of nerves. She
became sentimental, hysterical and reluctant. She quarrelled with
her betrothed and threatened to return the ring. Mrs. Lethbury had
to intervene, and Lethbury felt the hovering sword of destiny. But
the blow was suspended. Mr. Budd's chivalry was proof against all
his bride's caprices, and his devotion throve on her cruelty.
Lethbury feared that he was too faithful, too enduring, and longed
to urge him to vary his tactics. Jane presently reappeared with the
ring on her finger, and consented to try on the wedding-dress; but
her uncertainties, her reactions, were prolonged till the final day.
When it dawned, Lethbury was still in an ecstasy of apprehension.
Feeling reasonably sure of the principal actors, he had centred his
fears on incidental possibilities. The clergyman might have a
stroke, or the church might burn down, or there might be something
wrong with the license. He did all that was humanly possible to
avert such contingencies, but there remained that incalculable
factor known as the hand of God. Lethbury seemed to feel it groping
for him.
In the church it almost had him by the nape. Mr. Budd was late; and
for five immeasurable minutes Lethbury and Jane faced a churchful of
conjecture. Then the bridegroom appeared, flushed but chivalrous,
and explaining to his father-in-law under cover of the ritual that
he had torn his glove and had to go back for another.
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