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
