"Delirium tremens?" said Jack, with a faint, cynical laugh. "No go, my boy--too late. Not time now. If it had only come yesterday, I might have had a reprieve. But it didn't come. And so I have only a tremendous headache. I've less than an hour, and can't get it up in that time. Let me have my swing, old man. I'd do as much for you."
And, saying this, he drank off a half tumbler more.
"There," said he, going back to the sofa. "That's better. I feel more able to go through with it. It takes a good lot now, though, to get a fellow's courage up."
After this, Jack again relapsed into silence, which I ventured to interrupt with a few questions as to the nature of the coming ceremony. Jack's answers were short, reluctant, and dragged from him piecemeal. It was a thing which he had to face in a very short time, and any other subject was preferable as a theme for conversation.
"Me? invite any? Good Lord! I should think not!"
"Well, I dare say the town, by this time, has got wind of it, and the church'll be full."
"No, I think not," said Jack, with a sigh.
"Oh, I don't know; it's not a common affair."
"Well, she told me she had kept it a secret--and you and Louie are the only ones I've told it to--so, unless you have told about it, no one knows."
"Then I don't see how anybody can know, unless old Fletcher has proclaimed it."
"I don't care," said Jack, morosely, "how many are there, or how few. Crowd or no crowd, it makes small difference to me, by Jove!"
"Look here, old fellow," said I, suddenly, after some further conversation, "if you're going, you'd better start. It's a quarter to twelve now."
Jack gave a groan and rose from his sofa. He went into his dressing-room and soon returned, in his festive array, with a face of despair that was singularly at variance with his costume. Before starting, in spite of my remonstrances, he swallowed another draught of brandy. I began to doubt whether he would be able to stand up at the ceremony.
St. Malachi's was not far away, and a few minutes' drive brought us there.
The church was quite empty. A few stragglers, unknown to us, had taken seats in the front pews. Old Fletcher was in the chancel. We walked up and shook hands with him. He greeted Jack with an affectionate earnestness of congratulation, which, I was sorry to see, was not properly responded to.