“Yes, sir.”
“Then, fortunately, I have not got to go to Alick with such a ridiculous request as the loan of a license. I have it here with me.”
“You have it?”
“Yes. You see Alick, thinking from the state of the weather, and the looks of things generally, that he should have no groomsman for the ceremony, put his marriage license and the minister’s fee both in one envelope, and requested me, when the proper time should come, to hand it over to Dr. Barbar. But, now I hear that Dick has arrived—having so far conquered himself as to come to the wedding. I mean to conscript him into the service, arm him with this paper, and make him do duty as groomsman.”
“Where is the packet, dear grandpa?”
“Here, my dear, since you must needs see the license (which the officiating clergyman scarcely ever does, as he takes its contents for granted), you may read it at your leisure, while I go down stairs and inquire if my messenger has returned from the parsonage,” said General Lyon, as he handed a white embossed envelope to the bride elect, and then left the room.
She sank down into an easy chair and opened the envelope, which of course was not sealed. She took out the marriage license, in which she found folded a five hundred dollar bank note.
With a curling lip and flashing eyes she read over the form of license, and then, with a smile of scorn and triumph, she put it on the glowing fire and watched it blaze up and burn to ashes.
Then she took that mysterious little document given her by Drusilla, wrapped it around the big bank note and put both in the envelope and folded it neatly.
“Now, Mr. Alexander Lyon, whoever you may marry to-night, you will certainty not marry me!” she mused, maliciously, as she sat and waited for her grandfather’s return. Presently she heard footsteps coming up the corridor; but they were not those of the old General.