"Is it possible?" she exclaimed. "Felise, can it be true?"
"Why not?" was the cool interrogatory. "Such things happen often—don't they?
"'Every minute dies a man,
Every minute one is born.'"
"Let me see the date," Mrs. Arnold said, bending forward. "Ah! it is very recent. Well, I am surprised. But yet it is a very fortunate occurrence, is it not? Of course it is genuine."
"Why, of course it is," said Felise, with a short, dry laugh. "How else could it be in the paper? They don't put such things in for sport, I suppose."
"Of course not; but it came upon me so suddenly I felt quite incredulous at first. Well, this puts a new face upon the matter, does it not, my dear?"
"Certainly, mother. I will show her this paper, and she cannot have any pretext for repeating her refusal in the face of the alternative with which you shall threaten her. I suppose any girl in her senses would marry Colonel Carlyle and his millions rather than be turned out homeless into the street."
She sat still a moment staring before her into futurity with lurid eyes that saw her revenge already, and curling lips that began to taste its sweetness in anticipation.
"When must I tell her, Felise?" inquired Mrs. Arnold.
"To-morrow, mother. There is no use in delaying matters. Let us bring the marriage about as speedily as possible. You will tell her to-morrow what she has to do, and I will be on hand with the paper."