“Yes; a license authorizing the marriage of Alexander and Anna Lyon. Such was the document placed in the hands of the minister!” angrily exclaimed Alick.
“I beg his pardon,” said Anna, still looking at, still speaking to her grandfather. “The license of which he speaks I burned with my own hands this evening. The license of which I speak duly authorizes the nuptial rites to be solemnized between Alexander Lyon and Anna Drusilla Sterling, and it is now in the possession of the minister.”
“It was then taken out by somebody else in my name. It can be of no sort of legal effect,” cried Mr. Lyon.
“Again I entreat his forgiveness; but this one was procured by Alexander Lyon himself, dear grandpa.”
“It is FALSE!—I mean it is a mistake, Anna!” exclaimed Alexander, correcting himself. “I procured no such paper.”
“I fancy that he has forgotten the circumstance, dear sir; but I will refresh his memory!” replied Anna. Then turning to the sorely embarrassed minister who had stood all this time an unwilling witness to this painful scene, she added: “Dr. Barbar, will you have the goodness to return the envelope handed you by Mr. Hammond?”
The good clergyman complied. Anna opened the envelope, and took from it its enclosure, which she handed to General Lyon.
The old gentleman put on his spectacles to examine it. Having silently read it, he exclaimed:
“Why, this is—this is exactly what you represent it to be, my dear Anna! But it bears date—Heaven bless my soul, of last January!”
Alexander started and turned ghastly pale, reeled, and recovered himself by a great effort.