The clumsy wheels of several old-fashioned coacheswere heard， and the gentlemen and ladies composingthe bridal-party came through the church door with thesudden and gladsome effect of a burst of sunshine. Thewhole group， except the principal figure， was made up ofyouth and gayety. As they streamed up the broad aisle，while the pews and pillars seemed to brighten on eitherside， their steps were as buoyant as if they mistook thechurch for a ball-room and were ready to dance hand inhand to the altar. So brilliant was the spectacle that fewtook notice of a singular phenomenon that had marked itsentrance. At the moment when the bride’s foot touchedthe threshold the bell swung heavily in the tower aboveher and sent forth its deepest knell. The vibrations diedaway， and returned with prolonged solemnity as sheentered the body of the church.
“Good heavens！ What an omen！” whispered a young ladyto her lover.
“On my honor，” replied the gentleman， “I believe thebell has the good taste to toll of its own accord. Whathas she to do with weddings？ If you， dearest Julia， wereapproaching the altar， the bell would ring out its merriestpeal. It has only a funeral-knell for her.”
The bride and most of her company had been too muchoccupied with the bustle of entrance to hear the firstboding stroke of the bell—or， at least， to reflect on thesingularity of such a welcome to the altar. They thereforecontinued to advance with undiminished gayety. Thegorgeous dresses of the time—the crimson velvet coats，the gold-laced hats， the hoop-petticoats， the silk， satin，brocade and embroidery， the buckles， canes and swords，all displayed to the best advantage on persons suited tosuch finery—made the group appear more like a brightcoloredpicture than anything real. But by what perversityof taste had the artist represented his principal figure as sowrinkled and decayed， while yet he had decked her out inthe brightest splendor of attire， as if the loveliest maidenhad suddenly withered into age and become a moral tothe beautiful around her？ On they went， however， and hadglittered along about a third of the aisle， when anotherstroke of the bell seemed to fill the church with a visiblegloom， dimming and obscuring the bright-pageant till itshone forth again as from a mist.
This time the party wavered， stopped and huddled closertogether， while a slight scream was heard from some of theladies and a confused whispering among the gentlemen.
Thus tossing to and fro， they might have been fancifullycompared to a splendid bunch of flowers suddenly shakenby a puff of wind which threatened to scatter the leavesof an old brown， withered rose on the same stalk withtwo dewy buds， such being the emblem of the widowbetween her fair young bridemaids. But her heroism wasadmirable. She had started with an irrepressible shudder，as if the stroke of the bell had fallen directly on her heart；then， recovering herself， while her attendants were yet indismay， she took the lead and paced calmly up the aisle.
The bell continued to swing， strike and vibrate with thesame doleful regularity as when a corpse is on its way tothe tomb.
“My young friends here have their nerves a littleshaken，” said the widow， with a smile， to the clergymanat the altar. “But so many weddings have been usheredin with the merriest peal of the bells， and yet turned outunhappily， that I shall hope for better fortune under suchdifferent auspices.”
“Madam，” answered the rector， in great perplexity，“this strange occurrence brings to my mind a marriagesermonof the famous Bishop Taylor wherein he minglesso many thoughts of mortality and future woe that， tospeak somewhat after his own rich style， he seems to hangthe bridal-chamber in black and cut the wedding-garmentout of a coffin-pall. And it has been the custom of diversnations to infuse something of sadness into their marriageceremonies， so to keep death in mind while contractingthat engagement which is life’s chiefest business. Thuswe may draw a sad but profitable moral from this funeralknell.”
But， though the clergyman might have given hismoral even a keener point， he did not fail to despatchan attendant to inquire into the mystery and stop thosesounds so dismally appropriate to such a marriage. Abrief space elapsed， during which the silence was brokenonly by whispers and a few suppressed titterings amongthe wedding-party and the spectators， who after the firstshock were disposed to draw an ill-natured merrimentfrom the affair. The young have less charity for aged folliesthan the old for those of youth. The widow’s glance wasobserved to wander for an instant toward a window ofthe church， as if searching for the time-worn marble thatshe had dedicated to her first husband； then her eyelidsdropped over their faded orbs and her thoughts weredrawn irresistibly to another grave. Two buried men witha voice at her ear and a cry afar off were calling her tolie down beside them. Perhaps， with momentary truthof feeling， she thought how much happier had been herfate if， after years of bliss， the bell were now tolling forher funeral and she were followed to the grave by the oldaffection of her earliest lover， long her husband. But whyhad she returned to him when their cold hearts shrankfrom each other’s embrace？
Still the death-bell tolled so mournfully that the sunshineseemed to fade in the air. A whisper， communicated fromthose who stood nearest the windows， now spread throughthe church： a hearse with a train of several coaches wascreeping along the street， conveying some dead man to thechurchyard， while the bride awaited a living one at thealtar. Immediately after， the footsteps of the bridegroomand his friends were heard at the door. The widowlooked down the aisle and clenched the arm of one ofher bridemaids in her bony hand with such unconsciousviolence that the fair girl trembled.
“You frighten me， my dear madam，” cried she. “Forheaven’s sake， what is the matter？”
