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Bishop,

the Rector

and two

white-winged

assistants

were

hovering

about the

flower-banked

altar, and

the first

chords of

the Spohr

symphony

were

strewing

their

flower-like

notes

before the

bride.

Archer

opened his

eyes (but

could they

really

have been

shut, as

he

imagined?),

and felt

his heart

beginning

to resume

its usual

task. The

music, the

scent of

the lilies

on the

altar, the

vision of

the cloud

of tulle

and

orange-blossoms

floating

nearer and

nearer,

the sight