She was no fussy bride , caring much what she looked like . If Owen had been the bridegroom it would have been different . Nothing would have pleased her then ; but now it was only just `` That will do very well , Aunt Rachel , '' without even glancing at it . Still , nothing could prevent her from looking lovely when she was dressed . My dearie would have been a beauty in a beggarmaid 's rags . In her white dress and veil she was as fair as a queen . And she was as good as she was pretty . It was the right sort of goodness , too , with just enough spice of original sin in it to keep it from spoiling by reason of over-sweetness . Then she sent me out . `` I want to be alone my last hour , '' she said . `` Kiss me , Aunt Rachel -- MOTHER Rachel . '' When I 'd gone down , crying like the old fool I was , I heard a rap at the door . My first thought was to go out and send Isabella to it , for I supposed it was Mark Foster , come ahead of time , and small stomach I had for seeing him . I fall trembling , even yet , when I think , `` What if I had sent Isabella to that door ? '' But go I did , and opened it , defiant-like , kind of hoping it was Mark Foster to see the tears on my face . I opened it -- and staggered back like I 'd got a blow . `` Owen ! Lord ha ' mercy on us ! Owen ! '' I said , just like that , going cold all over , for it 's the truth that I thought it was his spirit come back to forbid that unholy marriage .
But he sprang right in , and caught my wrinkled old hands XXXXX a grasp that was of flesh and blood .
If as at from in on over to with without