It was three days after, and for the first time in my fifteen years of life, I stood in sunshine, and daylight, and open air.

We drove to the cathedral--for it was in St.
Paul's the sacrilege was committed.

I never could have walked there, I was so stunned, and giddy, and bewildered.

I never thought of the marriage--I could think of nothing but the bright, crashing, sun-shiny world without, till I was led up before the clergyman, with much the air, I suppose, of one walking in her sleep.

He was a very young man, I remember, and looked from the dwarf to me, and from me to the dwarf, in a great state of fear and uncertainty, but evidently not daring to refuse.