"Be that as it may I have given her my word to make her my wife, and I cannot now withdraw from it."
"You would if you were of my mind, though," said his friend; "you are at least ten years younger than she is, Lance, and the match is totally unsuitable. Take my advice and withdraw from it. Make over to her a sum of money. Perhaps that would heal her wounded honor."
"I do not think she would release me on any terms were I brave enough to propose it," said Lance; "and to tell you the truth," he added, with a blush, "I actually believe that the woman really loves me."
Mr. Lawrence laughed at the blush and the assertion.
"Perhaps she does," he admitted. "I suppose that would not be difficult for her to do. Women run mad over handsome faces, you know. But, seriously, Lance, jesting aside, I would be off with the whole thing. If you loved her it would be different. She is handsome enough to grace your home and queen it royally there. But to burden yourself with an unloved wife will be like hanging a mill-stone about your neck."
"I wish I could take your advice, sir," said Lance; "but I think it would be useless to try to get loose from Mrs. Vance. She is quite determined to write her name Mrs. Darling."
"How soon does she propose to immolate her victim on the altar of sacrifice?" inquired the banker, grimly.
"At a very early day," answered the young man. "The twenty-fourth of December is her choice."
"Shameful!" ejaculated the banker. "She is determined to push her power to the utmost. And you permitted it?"
"Naming the day is the lady's prerogative, you know, sir," said Lance, bitterly. "I confess I did hint for a rather longer extension of my bachelor freedom; but she asserted that the peculiar circumstances attending our engagement would not admit of farther delay."