The Chief Legatee by Anna Katharine Green

I was married to-day in Grace Church. At the altar my bride–you probably know her name, Miss Georgian Hazen–wore a natural look, and was in all respects, so far as any one could see, a happy woman, satisfied with her choice and pleased with the éclat and elegancies of the occasion. Half-way down the aisle this all changed. I remember the instant perfectly. Her hand was on my arm and I felt it suddenly stiffen. I was not alarmed, but I gave her a quick look and saw that something had happened….

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