Norton sprang to the ground and lifted her from the saddle.
"It will only take a moment, dear!" he whispered encouragingly in the brief instant he held her in his arms.
"Oh, Charley, it isn't that--it's dreadfully serious--" she said, with a wild little laugh that was almost hysterical.
"I wouldn't have it less than that," he said gravely.
Afterward Betty could remember standing before the church in the fierce morning light; she heard Mr.Bowen's voice, she heard Charley's voice, she heard another voice--her own, though she scarcely recognized it.
Then, like one aroused from a dream, she looked about her--she met Charley's glance; his face was radiant and she smiled back at him through a sudden mist that swam before her eyes.
Mr.Bowen led her toward the church door.

As they neared it they caught the clatter of hoofs, and Tom Ware on a hard-ridden horse dashed up; he was covered with dust and inarticulate with rage.

Then a cry came from him that was like the roar of some mortally wounded animal.
"I forbid this marriage!" he shrieked, when he could command speech.
"You're too late to stop it, Tom, but you can attend it," said Norton composedly.
"You--you--" Words failed the planter; he sat his horse the picture of a grim and sordid despair.
Mr.Bowen divided a look of reproach between his wife and daughter; his own conscience was clear; he had told no one of the purpose of Norton's call the night before.
"I'll tie the horses, Betty," said Norton.
Ware turned fiercely to Bowen.
"You knew better than to be a party to this, and by God!--if you go on with it you shall live to regret it!" The minister made him no answer, he thoroughly disapproved of the planter.

It was well that Betty should have a proper protector, this half-brother was hardly that measured by any standard.
Norton, leading the horses, had reached the edge of the oaks when from the silent depths of the denser woods came the sharp report of a rifle.
The shock of the bullet sent the young fellow staggering back among the mossy and myrtle-covered graves.
For a moment no one grasped what had happened, only there was Norton who seemed to grope strangely among the graves.

Black spots danced before his eyes, the little group by the church merged into the distance--always receding, always more remote, as he, stumbled helplessly over the moss and the thick dank myrtle and among the round graves that gave him a treacherous footing; and then he heard Betty's agonized cry.