"
The storm had increased during the service; and the sacristan, who was
opening the door for us, had as much as he could do to hold it against
the wind, which came with such a rush upon us when we stepped into the
porch that my veil and the coronal of myrtle and orange blossoms were
torn off my head and blown back into the church.
"God bless my sowl," said somebody--it was Tommy's friend, Johnny
Christopher--"there's some ones would he calling that bad luck, though."
A band of village musicians, who were ranged up in the road, struck up
"The Black and Grey" as we stepped out of the churchyard, and the next
thing I knew was that my husband and I were in the carriage going home.
He had so far recovered from the frightening effects of the marriage
service that he was making light of it, and saying:
"When will this mummery come to an end, I wonder?"
The windows of the carriage were rattling with the wind, and my husband
had begun to talk of the storm when we came upon the trunk of a young
tree which had been torn up by the roots and was lying across the road,
so that our coachman had to get down and remove it.
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