"I will verify the references, Sir Patrick, as matter of form. In the mean time, not to interpose needless and vexatious delay, I am bound to say that I can not resist the evidence of the marriage."
Having replied in those terms he addressed himself, with marked respect and sympathy, to Anne.
"On the faith of the written promise of marriage exchanged between you in Scotland," he said, "you claim Mr. Geoffrey Delamayn as your husband?"
She steadily repented the words after him.
"I claim Mr. Geoffrey Delamayn as my husband."
Mr. Moy appealed to his client. Geoffrey broke silence at last.
"Is it settled?" he asked.
"To all practical purposes, it is settled."
He went on, still looking at nobody but Anne.
"Has the law of Scotland made her my wife?"
"The law of Scotland has made her your wife."
He asked a third and last question.
"Does the law tell her to go where her husband goes?"
"Yes."
He laughed softly to himself, and beckoned to her to cross the room to the place at which he was standing.
She obeyed. At the moment when she took the first step to approach him, Sir Patrick caught her hand, and whispered to her, "Rely on me!" She gently pressed his hand in token that she understood him, and advanced to Geoffrey. At the same moment, Blanche rushed between them, and flung her arms around Anne's neck.
"Oh, Anne! Anne!"
An hysterical passion of tears choked her utterance. Anne gently unwound the arms that clung round her--gently lifted the head that lay helpless on her bosom.
"Happier days are coming, my love," she said. "Don't think of _me._"
She kissed her--looked at her--kissed her again--and placed her in her husband's arms. Arnold remembered her parting words at Craig Fernie, when they had wished each other good-night. "You have not befriended an ungrateful woman. The day may yet come when I shall prove it." Gratitude and admiration struggled in him which should utter itself first, and held him speechless.
She bent her head gently in token that she understood him. Then she went on, and stood before Geoffrey.
"I am here," she said to him. "What do you wish me to do?"
A hideous smile parted his heavy lips. He offered her his arm.
"Mrs. Geoffrey Delamayn," he said. "Come home."
The picture of the lonely house, isolated amidst its high walls; the ill-omened figure of the dumb woman with the stony eyes and the savage ways--the whole scene, as Anne had pictured it to him but two days since, rose vivid as reality before Sir Patrick's mind. "No!" he cried out, carried away by the generous impulse of the moment. "It shall _not_ be!"
Geoffrey stood impenetrable--waiting with his offered arm. Pale and resolute, she lifted her noble head--called back the courage which had faltered for a moment--and took his arm. He led her to the door. "Don't let Blanche fret about me," she said, simply, to Arnold as they went by. They passed Sir Patrick next. Once more his sympathy for her set every other consideration at defiance.
He started up to bar the way to Geoffrey. Geoffrey paused, and looked at Sir Patrick for the first time.
"The law tells her to go with her husband," he said. "The law forbids you to part Man and Wife."
True. Absolutely, undeniably true. The law sanctioned the sacrifice of her as unanswerably as it had sanctioned the sacrifice of her mother before her. In the name of Morality, let him take her! In the interests of Virtue, let her get out of it if she can!
Her husband opened the door. Mr. Moy laid his hand on Sir Patrick's arm. Lady Lundie, Captain Newenden, the London lawyer, all left their places, influenced, for once, by the same interest; feeling, for once, the same suspense. Arnold followed them, supporting his wife. For one memorable instant Anne looked back at them all. Then she and her husband crossed the threshold.
They descended the stairs together. The opening and closing of the house door was heard. They were gone.
Done, in the name of Morality. Done, in the interests of Virtue.
Done, in an age of progress, and under the most perfect government on the face of the earth.
