The small congregation of the pretty little country chapel where Jaquelina was to be married was in a flutter of excitement equal to that of a fashionable city church.

High and low, rich and poor, had gathered in the aisles to witness the wedding of the farmer's pretty, simple niece to the wealthy and aristocratic Ronald Valchester.

There was the usual amount of gossip and small talk while they waited for the bridal party to appear, but the chat was mostly good-natured.

Jaquelina Meredith had always been an object of pity and sympathy to the neighbors for the hard life she had lived at her uncle's. All were glad that she had made what is termed a good match.

Kind and friendly hands had decorated the house of God with flowers for the bridal. Gentle Mrs. Earle had sent white flowers, beneath which the contracting parties were to stand while they pledged the solemn vows.

The path from the gateway to the churchdoor was literally strewn with roses. Kind hearts and kind wishes waited on the coming of the gentle young bride.

They came at last. The whisper ran from lip to lip. The joyous notes of the wedding march pealed from the small organ; the gray-haired minister arose and stood waiting with his open book.

The immediate relatives of the bride and groom, the Merediths and Mrs. Valchester, entered first with Mr. and Mrs. Earle.

They proceeded to the seats reserved for them near the altar, amid a great deal of subdued whispering over their appearance, especially the elegant dresses of Mrs. Earle and the groom's mother.

Then: "Oh, how beautiful!" was whispered from lip to lip as Violet Earle came slowly up the aisle on the arm of her handsome brother.

Violet was attired in an exquisite costume of white lace, festooned with delicate pink geraniums. She wore gleaming white pearls on her neck and wrists, and carried a small basket of delicate pink geraniums on her arm that exhaled a delicate perfume as she passed.

"Violet, I never saw you looking so pretty as you do to-night," Walter whispered to her, and it was true.

A slight air of restless and anxious expectancy lent color to her cheeks and fire to her eyes.

Walter himself looked handsome, but very pale and grave. He had not conquered his own heart yet, and he walked over a path of thorns when he accompanied his friend to the altar.

It was a strange sight to see this brother and sister acting as bridesmaid and groomsman to this pair.

Walter was in love with the bride, Violet with the groom. Yet they had been chosen for this office and accepted it calmly as they were now fulfilling it.

They walked to the front of the altar and stepped apart.

Ronald Valchester, tall, handsome and stately, passed between them with his bride upon his arm, and stood expectantly before the clergyman.

Those who stood around said that there never had been a finer-looking bridegroom or a lovelier bride.

Valchester's calm, grave face was very pale, but it was touched with a beautiful, tender seriousness that impressed all who saw it with his deep consciousness of the sanctity of the moment.

The beautiful face of the girl-bride, as seen through the mist of the splendid Brussels veil, glowed with shy blushes, and the thick, curling fringe of her black lashes drooped low upon her softly-rounded cheek.

A moment—the rustle and whisper in the congregation suddenly grew still. The clergyman began to read the solemnly beautiful words of the marriage service. Everyone was looking at the bride. No one noticed that Violet Earle, as she stood at the left of the bride, looked behind her with an anxious, fugitive, eager gaze.

But the next moment all was darkness and confusion. A man sprang up with the swiftness of lightning, and with a daring hand extinguished the pretty chandelier that lighted the chapel.

Cries of alarm and indignation arose. In an instant all was hurry, noise and confusion.

In the instant that the light was extinguished, Jaquelina heard a low cry of pain from her lover's lips, felt him falling to the floor in the darkness. Then she was caught in a pair of strong arms and borne rapidly from the chapel. Struggling and screaming, she was lifted to the back of a horse and borne fleetly away in the arms of her captor.

In the hour that was the happiest of her life, Gerald Huntington had taken his terrible revenge.