Lancelot Darling's unfortunate sleigh-riding accident had achieved for Mrs. Vance a victory that all her previous arts and maneuvers had failed to conquer.

Lancelot's noble and chivalrous spirit could not brook the thought that any woman's fair name should suffer through his fault or accident.

He therefore fell an easy victim to her artful wiles, and prepared to sacrifice himself on the altar of her imperious will, while deploring with all the passion of his manly nature the cause that demanded it.

"I thought myself the most miserable of all men on earth before this happened," said he to Mr. Lawrence, after confiding to him his unhappy position. "Life has held nothing but despair for me since Lily died. But now that I must take to my heart, in place of my worshiped darling, this mature woman, with her bold beauty and coquettish arts, I feel myself, if possible, driven nearer than before to the verge of madness."

"I believe you are sacrificing yourself unnecessarily, my boy," said the banker, warmly, for he saw through the widow's arts directly, and lamented the chivalrous nature that made Lance become her prey easily. "I believe Mrs. Vance, in order to secure a rich husband, has represented matters in a much stronger light than truth would sanction. Your unfortunate accident is unknown save to a few, and by a timely whisper to those who are cognizant of it, it need never transpire to the world. And even if it should there is no harm in it."

"It would be impossible to convince Mrs. Vance of that," said Lance, with a heavy sigh.

"Because she does not desire to be convinced of it," said the banker, grimly. "In her eagerness to secure you she will make the most of her small capital that she may delude you into becoming her husband."

Lance felt that Mr. Lawrence spoke the truth; but he was too modest and honorable to tell his friend of the previous attempt of the wily widow to secure him by her bold declaration of love. He felt that he had gotten into her toils, and that she would never allow him to extricate himself; so he answered, sadly enough:

"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."

"She was afraid you might possibly escape her toils if you were afforded a longer time in which to reflect on your position," asserted Mr. Lawrence. "Well, Lance, if you are determined to sacrifice yourself for a scruple of overstrained chivalry I need not urge you further. It would be useless. I am tempted to drive the deceitful jade forth from the shelter of my roof within the hour."

"Oh, pray do not," said Lance, earnestly. "It would only precipitate the evil day of our union. She would claim my protection immediately then."

"It is very probable she would. For your sake, then, Lance, I will let her remain, and even allow her marriage to take place in my house; but I can never like or respect her again, even as your wife."

"I will leave you to make the truth known to Ada," continued Lancelot, bitterly; "do not allow her to believe that I am faithless to Lily's precious memory, Mr. Lawrence."

"I will tell her the whole truth," answered Mr. Lawrence, deeply moved.

Lance went away, and Mr. Lawrence hastened to communicate the astonishing news to Ada, who was confined to her sofa with her sprained ankle.

"Papa, I am not so surprised as you expect me to be," said the young girl, frankly. "I have long seen that Mrs. Vance was using every art in her power to win poor Lance. Indeed, I incurred her everlasting displeasure some time ago by boldly charging her with it. She did not deny it, but retaliated by saying that I wanted him myself. She seized upon the occurrence of last night as a pretext for winning what she has long been angling for—the hand of our poor, unhappy Lance."

"He will live to repent his boyish notion of chivalry, I am sure," he added; changing the subject abruptly, "I called on young Philip St. John to-day, and thanked him for his friendliness to you last night, and invited him to dinner. I had to show him some attention, you know," he said, observing the flush that colored Ada's cheek so suddenly. "You do not object, I hope?"

"Oh, no, no," she murmured; "he was exceedingly kind."

"He is a very superior young man," said the banker, cordially. "Well born, wealthy, and a lawyer by profession. He is a particular friend of Lance, which in itself is a recommendation to any young man," continued Mr. Lawrence, in whose eyes Lancelot Darling appeared the beau ideal of human perfection.

If Mrs. Vance had expected to be congratulated by the banker and his daughter upon her approaching marriage she was doomed to disappointment. Neither one of them alluded to it at all, though she knew that Lance had told them, and that they resented her conduct bitterly by the cold and altered manner, almost amounting to contempt, with which they treated her.

She was obliged to broach the matter to Mr. Lawrence herself, coupled with a modest request for the funds wherewith to purchase as elaborate a trousseau as could be gotten in the short time intervening between then and Christmas.

Mr. Lawrence, in the grimmest and coldest manner imaginable, presented her with a check for a thousand dollars, and with profuse thanks she hurried out to expend it in finery.

She was very happy now in the coming fulfillment of her cherished desire, and no coldness, not even the lowering shadow on Lance's face when he came and went, had power to alter her imperious will.

To win him she had steeped her hands in human blood and risked the dangers of the scaffold. It was not likely she would relent now, when the sin and sorrow lay behind her in the past, and the happy consummation of all her efforts loomed brightly before her.

She went on blithely with her task of preparation for the grand event, seeing dressmakers and milliners daily, and leaving herself no time for retrospection in her whirl of engagements. And time, that "waits for no man," hurried on and brought the day of fate.