CHAPTER XXXV
WHAT DOES IT MEAN?
Fortune was with the conspirators. Everything helped them. First ofall, the dippers whispered the news as a profound secret. Then it waswhispered about the pump room as a profound secret. Then it wascarried to the confectioner's; to the book shop; to the coffee houses;to the taverns; to the gardens; and talked about as an event and not asecret at all. It was, indeed extraordinary that a nobleman of LordFylingdale's rank and fortune should stoop to marry the daughter of aplain merchant of Lynn; a homely creature, as the ladies declared; onewho had no manners, and was actually ignorant of the polite world. Itwas said that she was rich. Could the Earl of Fylingdale stoop to pickup her paltry fortune? What was the attraction, then? A bouncingfigure; big hands and strong arms; fine eyes, perhaps, and there anend; for the rest, a mere common girl, no better than dozens likeherself. Some there were who whispered a word of ugly import in thecountry. "It must be witchcraft! Surely," they said, "this unfortunateyoung man has been bewitched. Some one, perhaps the negress, hasexercised spells over him to his destruction. The pity of it! The pityof it! It will be three generations, at least, before the stain ofthis alliance can be wiped out of the family pedigree."
The vicar heard the rumour. He hastened at once to find out the truthfrom the person most certain, as he thought, to know the facts, viz,Molly herself.
"I am to congratulate you, Molly," he said, "or must I call you theCountess of Fylingdale?"
"I am certainly not a countess," she replied. "Why the horns came hereat seven this morning and the butchers with them, all to congratulateme. What does it mean?"
"Then it is not true, Molly? Heavens, how glad I am!"
"Why, certainly not. I wrote to Lord Fylingdale last night. I told himI should not be at the church this morning, as I had promised."
"Then--is it not true?--may I contradict the report?"
"If you please, sir. Did you see Jack last night after he left me?"
"We did. And we learned your resolution. Therefore, I was the moreastonished."
"Oh! sir. Pray do not think that I would marry a rake for a titlewhich I do not want and should not adorn."
"Heavens! my dear Molly, what a load you lift from my heart!"
So he went away. Outside, in the streets, he met the clerk of St.Nicholas. "What is all this," he said, "about a marriage early thismorning?"
"Why, sir, it is no secret, I believe. Miss Molly was married at sixo'clock to Lord Fylingdale. I was present, and gave away the bride."
"Are we dreaming? Are we in our right senses? You say, man, that MissMolly was married this morning--this very morning--to Lord Fylingdale.By whom?"
"By his reverence, Mr. Purdon."
"By Mr. Purdon? Was the marriage duly celebrated?"
"Surely, sir. They were married by licence; and the marriage isentered in the registers."
"Come to the church and show me the registers."
The clerk led the way to the vestry and opened the great trunk. Therelay the books of the registers. He took them out and showed theentries. Yes; there was no doubt possible. There were the twosignatures, "Fylingdale" and "Mary Miller," with the clerk as witnessand the signature of "Benjamin Purdon, Clerk in Orders," as theofficiating minister.
"Now," said the vicar, sitting down, "what does this mean?"
As for myself, I also heard the news. It was brought on board byCaptain Jaggard. "I could have wished," he said, "that Captain Crowlehad seen his way to marry the girl to some honest man of the place--toyou, Jack, or some other. I suppose she is too rich for a merchant ora simple sailor. Pity! Pity! This noble lord will take her away, andwe shall see her no more."
I did not think it necessary to tell him that I was myself aneyewitness of the wedding, but, as soon as I could get away, I wentashore to learn what was said and reported.
At my father's house behind the school I found the vicar in astrangely bewildered mind. "Molly," he said, "flatly denies themarriage."
"Molly denies?" I was amazed.
"And the clerk swears that he gave her away; the registers are dulyentered. What does this mean? What does this mean?"
I stared, and for a time made no reply. Molly to utter a falsehood?The thing was incredible. Yet, what was I to think?
"Sir," I said, "I remembered, early this morning, that I had forgottenMolly's letter to Lord Fylingdale. I hastened ashore, hoping to be intime to stop his going to the church. I was too late. I hurried on tothe church. To my amazement the wedding service was at this momentbeing read by Mr. Purdon, and I saw, with my own eyes, Molly, wrappedin her pink cloak, the hood over her head, married to Lord Fylingdale.You cannot think that I was deceived."
"Why, the thing grows more and more mysterious. Given the fact thatLord Fylingdale is a reprobate, with no principle and no religion, yethe would not pass off another woman as Molly. She would have to be awoman of the vilest character. I do not think there is a woman in Lynnwho could be persuaded to such an act of villainy. No, it isimpossible; the clerk could not be deceived; the clergyman--to be surehe is a fit companion for the bridegroom--would not--could not--stoopso low. Think, Jack. Molly stoutly declares that she has not left thehouse for any purpose whatever. That is a plain assertion. Then wehave the evidence of yourself, of the clerk, of the registers, and ofthe two whose evidence might not be considered trustworthy--thebridegroom and the minister. I do not understand. You say that Mollywas dressed in a cloak that you recognised?"
"In her pink silk cloak, such as she throws over her shoulders at theassembly."
"There is no escape, I fear, no escape, that I can see. What does itmean? Why does Molly make this assertion? She must know that it cannotundo the wedding."
"I cannot so much as guess. Molly is the most candid and the mosttruthful of women. She cannot lie. It is impossible. There must besome dreadful mistake."
"She is, as you say, of a most truthful nature. Yet--how to explain?What does it mean?"
"I saw her hand placed in the bridegroom's, and I heard the words.Then, for my heart sank, I came away."
"Tell me again. When you left her last night, she was fully resolvednot to keep her promise."
"She was fully resolved, I say. I have her letter--the letter whichshe wrote with my help, the letter which I ought to have sent to hislordship."
I lugged it out of my pocket; the vicar read it. "Humph," he said, "itis written as if by a supercargo--but that matters nothing. Themeaning of it is plain. Her resolution is fixed. She was agitated,Jack."
"Naturally she was agitated at finding the man, whom she was to marryout of respect and not for love, was unworthy of the least respect."
"She was agitated. That was, as you say, natural. She had in her mind,at the same time, the promise to meet her accepted lover at the churchat six in the morning. We must remember that. Now it is difficult tounderstand a more serious blow to the mind of a young girl than to betold suddenly, without the least preparation for it, that the man sheis to marry is not what she believed him to be; not, that is, a man ofhonour, not a man of virtue, not a man whose conduct is governed byprinciple. I say that this knowledge may fall upon a woman in such amanner as to distract her for a time."
"But Molly was not in the least distracted."
"Not in your judgment. Could you have followed her to the lonelychamber, Jack, you might have witnessed a scene of strange distractionin which contempt took the place of respect; loathing of love; andenmity in place of gratitude. In a word, you would have seen atransformation of the girl. Had you watched her through the night youwould have seen the sleeplessness and the restlessness caused by theseemotions; you would have seen, perhaps, with the early morning natureasserting herself and the girl dropping asleep. After an hour or twoshe awakes, her mind not yet recovered; she remembers her promise, butnot her refusal to keep it; she dresses mechanically; she steps out ofthe house unseen; she meets the man--he had not received yourletter--she goes through the ceremony with him. She returns home,mounts to her room
still without being observed, and again fallsasleep. When she awakes there is no memory in her mind of the weddingservice, nor any recollection of what had taken place. There would beleft nothing but the memory of last night's revelations."
He went on to fortify his theory with an abundance of examples takenfrom antiquity, and from books in which persons have been known to dostrange things while seemingly broad awake and in their senses, who,afterwards, remembered nothing. "I can even understand," he said, "aman committing a crime in this unconscious manner, who, in his sanemoments, would be incapable of any wickedness. Is this what wasformerly called demoniac possession? If so, it is a truly dreadfulthing, and one against which we ought to pray."
The explanation seemed, at least, one that accounted for the strangedenial of a simple fact.
"We will leave it so," he said. "I will go and talk to Captain Crowleabout it, though I doubt whether the captain can be made to understandthese nice distinctions between things as they are and things as theyseem. It is, from every point of view, most unfortunate. The poor girlis now the wife of a villain. What will happen to her nobody knows asyet. Nor do I see how we can protect her."
Accordingly, he laid the matter before the captain, but failed inpersuading him.
"No, sir," he said; "there is villainy abroad. I know not of whatkind. There is villainy, and there are villains. Molly is not married.She was not out of the house this morning at all. She was with hermother in the stillroom. Besides, do you believe it possible for awoman not to know whether she is married or not?"
"Captain, I cannot understand it, except by my theory that----"
"He shan't have her, whatever he says. What? Should I suffer mygirl--my ward--to go to him, and that unmarried? Say no more,vicar--say no more."
Thinking over the vicar's distinctions about things as they are andthings as they seem, a sudden objection occurred to me.
"If Molly was actually married, whether she remembered it afterwardsor not, what became of the wedding ring?" To this objection I couldfind no reply. And so the vicar's explanation, in my mind, fell to theground, and I was as much at sea as ever. For Molly, who was always astrue and candid as a mirror, was now ... but I could not put the thinginto words.
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