“We must be married, Alfred, dear!”
“Yes; but when, Fanny?”
“To-day,” said Fanny, firmly, and putting out her hand to her beloved.
He seized it mechanically.
“To-day, Fanny?” asked he, after a pause of amazement.
“Certainly, dear—to-day. I am as ready now as I shall be a year hence.”
“But what will my mother say?” inquired Alfred, in alarm.
“It will be too late for her to say any thing. Don’t you see, Alfred, dear!” continued Fanny, in a most assuring tone, “that if we go to your mother and say, ‘Here we are, married!’ she has sense enough to perceive that nothing can be done; and after a little while all will be smooth again?”
Her lover was comforted by this view. He was even pleased by the audacity of the project.
“I swear, Fanny,” said he, at length, in a more cheerful and composed voice, “I think it’s rather a good idea!”