Lady Winwood took a more cheerful view.

“I see nothing very formidable as yet, my dear.  But we have still to hear the end of it.  You mentioned a condition just now, Mr. Linzie.

“I am coming to the condition, Lady Winwood.  You naturally suppose, as I did, that I put Natalie into a cab, and run away with her from the church door?”

“Certainly.  And I throw an old shoe after you for luck, and go home again.”

Launce shook his head ominously.

“Natalie must go home again as well as you!”

Lady Winwood started.  “Is that the condition you mentioned just now?” she asked.

“That is the condition.  I may marry her without anything serious coming of it.  But, if I run away with her afterward, and if you are there, aiding and abetting me, we are guilty of Abduction, and we may stand, side by side, at the bar of the Old Bailey to answer for it!”

Natalie sprang to her feet in horror.  Lady Winwood held up one finger warningly, signing to her to let Launce go on.

“Natalie is not yet sixteen years old,” Launce proceeded.  “She must go straight back to her father’s house from the church, and I must wait to run away with her till her next birthday.  When she’s turned sixteen, she’s ripe for elopement—­not an hour before.  There is the law of Abduction!  Despotism in a free country—­that’s what I call it!”

Natalie sat down again, with an air of relief.

“It’s a very comforting law, I think,” she said.  “It doesn’t force one to take the dreadful step of running away from home all at once.  It gives one time to consider, and plan, and make up one’s mind.  I can tell you this, Launce, if I am to be persuaded into marrying you, the law of Abduction is the only thing that will induce me to do it.  You ought to thank the law, instead of abusing it.”

Launce listened—­without conviction.

“It’s a pleasant prospect,” he said, “to part at the church door, and to treat my own wife on the footing of a young lady who is engaged to marry another gentleman.”

“Is it any pleasanter for me,” retorted Natalie, “to have Richard Turlington courting me, when I am all the time your wife?  I shall never be able to do it.  I wish I was dead!”

“Come! come!” interposed Lady Winwood.  “It’s time to be serious.  Natalie’s birthday, Mr. Linzie, is next Christmas-day.  She will be sixteen—­”

“At seven in the morning,” said Launce; “I got that out of Sir Joseph.  At one minute past seven, Greenwich mean time, we may be off together.  I got that out of the lawyer.”

“And it isn’t an eternity to wait from now till Christmas-day.  You get that, by way of completing the list of your acquisitions, out of me.  In the mean time, can you, or can you not, manage to meet the difficulties in the way of the marriage?”

“I have settled everything,” Launce answered, confidently.  “There is not a single difficulty left.”