E. L. White

“ Had the dot been a hairbreadth lower where would he have fallen? He was assailed with the sudden giddiness of one who looks down into space, at the mere sight of two inches of blank paper at the bottom of the chart.
Where? He was still asking himself the question, when he heard a rustle at the church door—caught some glimpse of shimmering white. He could not see plainly. He seemed to be standing on a thin crust over nothingness. Was it Laura? The tension was growing unbearable—akin to mental and spiritual vivisection. At any moment the end might come. ”

“ Woman—the bound and cloistered sex—was not a prisoner. Many a bride had drawn back at the eleventh hour, and radiated in the limelight of newspaper publicity. He knew now that Laura did not love him. The certainty that she merely respected his wealth became his, with the recognition of the knowledge that he did not love her. ”

“ What kept him? While the door was Still open? Merely the shell of an empty convention, homage to the precedent of the stereotyped. While a man might protect itself from the menace of death, he was forbidden—if the formalities be infringed—to protect himself from the sacrifice of his life.
The bride drew nearer in her stately advance. It was the culminating moment of her life; it marked the apex of achievement.
Collier stared at her, with the cold speculative eyes of one stranger who challenges another. ”

“ The eyes vanished and he was gazing into the peaty pool, hearing the limpid gurgle of the sweet water—feeling the cool air stirring in his hair. Woman or pool—he knew not which was which. For both were Nature. ”

“ To a woman, marriage is generally a question of alternatives; to a man, in the main, it is a question of choice. Yet looking back, Collier could trace no signs of conscious volition on his part. There had never been one moment of genuine attraction—one step taken on his own initiative. ”

“ In these scented, simpering units, congregated to gloat over the struggles of the victim, he recognized some part of the social system that was collected to insure finality of his doom. Escape from some deserted City church—some registry-office might be barely possible. Not here. “Gathered together here in the sight of God”—the man who had known God in the wilderness dared not follow the thought—“and in the face of this congregation.”
He felt his sleeve plucked. His best man was speaking. Part of the flickering smile was concentrated on his grinning lips. “Buck up! She's overdue. ”

“ Then into the thick of the traffic surging round the church—into the heart of the struggling mass of that humanity that he had lost in the sacred building—that offered a human warren to the human quarry. ”

“ The congregation, on its part, was feeling some sense of discomfort, proceeding from overstrained and dissatisfied curiosity.
The bride was unusually late. Collier realized the fact from the impatient manner in which the best man consulted his watch. The organist, seeking fresh inspiration, availed himself freely of the privileges granted by the letters D.C. Everyone was growing weary.
A rush of wild hope shot through the veins of the prisoner. Men had been saved before by a miracle. ”

“ The face of the prisoner glowed. His eyes blazed.... Suddenly, the candle in his face was blown out. He stood mute, blank, empty. The best man had returned and whispered a few words.
“All right! Some important bit of her finery never turned up. She'll be here now, any minute!”
The prisoner nodded. Involuntarily he looked again towards the door, It was still open.
“Buck up!” The best man was offering sympathy. “A man only goes through it once.”
Again Collier nodded. Some of the light came back to his face. ”