Man and Wife

by Wilkie Collins

from an appeal to a Court of Law."

  At those words the gathered venom in Lady Lundie planted its

  second sting--under cover of a protest addressed to Mr. Moy.

  "I beg to inform you, Sir, on behalf of my step-daughter," she

  said, "that we have nothing to dread from the widest publicity.

  We consent to be present at, what you call, 'this informal

  inquiry,' reserving our right to carry the matter beyond the four

  walls of this room. I am not referring now to Mr. Brinkworth's

  chance of clearing himself from an odious suspicion which rests

  upon him, and upon another Person present. That is an

  after-matter. The object immediately before us--so far as a woman

  can pretend to understand it--is to establish my step-daughter's

  right to call Mr. Brinkworth to account in the character of his

  wife. If the result, so far, fails to satisfy us in that

  particular, we shall not hesitate to appeal to a Court of Law."

  She leaned back in her chair, and opened her fan, and looked

  round her with the air of a woman who called society to witness

  that she had done her duty.

  An expression of pain crossed Blanche's face while her

  step-mother was speaking. Lady Lundie took her hand for the

  second time. Blanche resolutely and pointedly withdrew it--Sir

  Patrick noticing the action with special interest. Before Mr. Moy

  could say a word in answer, Arnold centred the general attention

  on himself by suddenly interfering in the proceedings. Blanche

  looked at him. A bright flash of color appeared on her face--and

  left it again. Sir Patrick noted the change of color--and

  observed her more attentively than ever. Arnold's letter to his

  wife, with time to help it, had plainly shaken her ladyship's

  influence over Blanche.

  "After what Lady Lundie has said, in my wife's presence," Arnold

  burst out, in his straightforward, boyish way, "I think I ought

  to be allowed to say a word on my side. I only want to explain

  how it was I came to go to Craig Fernie at all--and I challenge

  Mr. Geoffrey Delamayn to deny it, if he can."

  His voice rose at the last words, and his eyes brightened with

  indignation as he looked at Geoffrey.

  Mr. Moy appealed to his learned friend.

  "With submission, Sir Patrick, to your better judgment," he said,

  "this young gentleman's proposal seems to be a little out of

  place at the present stage of the proceedings."

  "Pardon me," answered Sir Patrick. "You have yourself described

  the proceedings as representing an informal inquiry. An informal

  proposal--with submission to _your_ better judgment, Mr. Moy--is

  hardly out of place, under those circumstances, is it?"

  Mr. Moy's inexhaustible modesty gave way, without a struggle. The

  answer which he received had the effect of puzzling him at the

  outset of the investigation. A man of Sir Patrick's experience

  must have known that Arnold's mere assertion of his own innocence

  could be productive of nothing but useless delay in the

  proceedings. And yet he sanctioned that delay. Was he privately

  on the watch for any accidental circumstance which might help him

  to better a case that he knew to be a bad one?

  Permitted to speak, Arnold spoke. The unmistakable accent of

  truth was in every word that he uttered. He gave a fairly

  coherent account of events, from the time when Geoffrey had

  claimed his assistance at the lawn-party to the time when he

  found himself at the door of the inn at Craig Fernie. There Sir

  Patrick interfered, and closed his lips. He asked leave to appeal

  to Geoffrey to confirm him. Sir Patrick amazed Mr. Moy by

  sanctioning this irregularity also. Arnold sternly addressed

  himself to Geoffrey.

  "Do you deny that what I have said is true?" he asked.

  Mr. Moy did his duty by his client. "You are not bound to

  answer," he said, "unless you wish it yourself."

  Geoffrey slowly lifted his heavy head, and confronted the man

  whom he had betrayed.

  "I deny every word of it," he answered--with a stolid defiance of

  tone and manner

  "Have we had enough of assertion and counter-assertion, Sir

  Patrick, by this time?" asked Mr. Moy, with undiminished

  politeness.

  After first forcing Arnold--with some little difficulty--to

  control himself, Sir Patrick raised Mr. Moy's astonishment to the

  culminating point. For reasons of his own, he determined to

  strengthen the favorable impression which Arnold's statement had

  plainly produced on his wife before the inquiry proceeded a step

  farther.

  "I must throw myself on your indulgence, Mr. Moy," he said. "I

  have not had enough of assertion and counter-assertion, even

  yet."

  Mr. Moy leaned back in his chair, with a mixed expression of

  bewilderment and resignation. Either his colleague's intellect

  was in a failing state--or his colleague had some purpose in view

  which had not openly asserted itself yet. He began to suspect

  that the right reading of the riddle was involved in the latter

  of those two alternatives. Instead of entering any fresh protest,

  he wisely waited and watched.

  Sir Patrick went on unblushingly from one irregularity to

  another.

  "I request Mr. Moy's permission to revert to the alleged

  marriage, on the fourteenth of August, at Craig Fernie," he said.

  "Arnold Brinkworth! answer for yourself, in the presence of the

  persons here assembled. In all that you said, and all that you

  did, while you were at the inn, were you not solely influenced by

  the wish to make Miss Silvester's position as little painful to

  her as possible, and by anxiety to carry out the instructions

  given to you by Mr. Geoffrey Delamayn? Is that the whole truth?"

  "That is the whole truth, Sir Patrick."

  "On the day when you went to Craig Fernie, had you not, a few

  hours previously, applied for my permission to marry my niece?"

  "I applied for your permission, Sir Patrick; and you gave it me."

  "From the moment when you entered the inn to the moment when you

  left it, were you absolutely innocent of the slightest intention

  to marry Miss Silvester?"

  "No such thing as the thought of marrying Miss Silvester ever

  entered my head."

  "And this you say, on your word of honor as a gentleman?"

  "On my word of honor as a gentleman."

  Sir Patrick turned to Anne.

  "Was it a matter of necessity, Miss Silvester, that you should

  appear in the assumed character of a married woman--on the

  fourteenth of August last, at the Craig Fernie inn?"

  Anne looked away from Blanche for the first time. She replied to

  Sir Patrick quietly, readily, firmly--Blanche looking at her, and

  listening to her with eager interest.

  "I went to the inn alone, Sir Patrick. The landlady refused, in

  the plainest terms, to let me stay there, unless she was first

  satisfied that I was a married woman."

  "Which of the two gentlemen did you expect to join you at the

  inn--Mr. Arnold Brinkworth, or Mr. Geoffrey Delamayn?"

  "Mr. Geoffrey Delamayn."


  "When Mr. Arnold Brinkworth came in his place and said what was

  necessary to satisfy the scruples of the landlady, you understood

  that he was acting in your interests, from motives of kindness

  only, and under the instructions of Mr. Geoffrey Delamayn?"

  "I understood that; and I objected as strongly as I could to Mr.

  Brinkworth placing himself in a false position on my account."

  "Did your objection proceed from any knowledge of the Scottish

  law of marriage, and of the positi on in which the peculiarities

  of that law might place Mr. Brinkworth?"

  "I had no knowledge of the Scottish law. I had a vague dislike

  and dread of the deception which Mr. Brinkworth was practicing on

  the people of the inn. And I feared that it might lead to some

  possible misinterpretation of me on the part of a person whom I

  dearly loved."

  "That person being my niece?"

  "Yes."

  "You appealed to Mr. Brinkworth (knowing of his attachment to my

  niece), in her name, and for her sake, to leave you to shift for

  yourself?"

  "I did."

  "As a gentleman who had given his promise to help and protect a

  lady, in the absence of the person whom she had depended on to

  join her, he refused to leave you to shift by yourself?"

  "Unhappily, he refused on that account."

  "From first to last, you were absolutely innocent of the

  slightest intention to marry Mr. Brinkworth?"

  "I answer, Sir Patrick, as Mr. Brinkworth has answered. No such

  thing as the thought of marrying him ever entered my head."

  "And this you say, on your oath as a Christian woman?"

  "On my oath as a Christian woman."

  Sir Patrick looked round at Blanche. Her face was hidden in her

  hands. Her step-mother was vainly appealing to her to compose

  herself.

  In the moment of silence that followed, Mr. Moy interfered in the

  interests of his client.

  "I waive my claim, Sir Patrick, to put any questions on my side.

  I merely desire to remind you, and to remind the company present,

  that all that we have just heard is mere assertion--on the part

  of two persons strongly interested in extricating themselves from

  a position which fatally compromises them both. The marriage

  which they deny I am now waiting to prove--not by assertion, on

  my side, but by appeal to competent witnesses."

  After a brief consultation with her own solicitor, Lady Lundie

  followed Mr. Moy, in stronger language still.

  "I wish you to understand, Sir Patrick, before you proceed any

  farther, that I shall remove my step-daughter from the room if

  any more attempts are made to harrow her feelings and mislead her

  judgment. I want words to express my sense of this most cruel and

  unfair way of conducting the inquiry."

  The London lawyer followed, stating his professional approval of

  his client's view. "As her ladyship's legal adviser," he said, "I

  support the protest which her ladyship has just made."

  Even Captain Newenden agreed in the general disapproval of Sir

  Patrick's conduct. "Hear, hear!" said the captain, when the

  lawyer had spoken. "Quite right. I must say, quite right."

  Apparently impenetrable to all due sense of his position, Sir

  Patrick addressed himself to Mr. Moy, as if nothing had happened.

  "Do you wish to produce your witnesses at once?" he asked. "I

  have not the least objection to meet your views--on the

  understanding that I am permitted to return to the proceedings as

  interrupted at this point."

  Mr. Moy considered. The adversary (there could be no doubt of it

  by this time) had something in reserve--and the adversary had not

  yet shown his hand. It was more immediately important to lead him

  into doing this than to insist on rights and privileges of the

  purely formal sort. Nothing could shake the strength of the

  position which Mr. Moy occupied. The longer Sir Patrick's

  irregularities delayed the proceedings, the more irresistibly the

  plain facts of the case would assert themselves--with all the

  force of contrast--out of the mouths of the witnesses who were in

  attendance down stairs. He determined to wait.

  "Reserving my right of objection, Sir Patrick," he answered, "I

  beg you to go on."

  To the surprise of every body, Sir Patrick addressed himself

  directly to Blanche--quoting the language in which Lady Lundie

  had spoken to him, with perfect composure of tone and manner.

  "You know me well enough, my dear," he said, "to be assured that

  I am incapable of willingly harrowing your feelings or misleading

  your judgment. I have a question to ask you, which you can answer

  or not, entirely as you please."

  Before he could put the question there was a momentary contest

  between Lady Lundie and her legal adviser. Silencing her ladyship

  (not without difficulty), the London lawyer interposed. He also

  begged leave to reserve the right of objection, so far as _his_

  client was concerned.

  Sir Patrick assented by a sign, and proceeded to put his question

  to Blanche.

  "You have heard what Arnold Brinkworth has said, and what Miss

  Silvester has said," he resumed. "The husband who loves you, and

  the sisterly friend who loves you, have each made a solemn

  declaration. Recall your past experience of both of them;

  remember what they have just said; and now tell me--do you

  believe they have spoken falsely?"

  Blanche answered on the instant.

  "I believe, uncle, they have spoken the truth!"

  Both the lawyers registered their objections. Lady Lundie made

  another attempt to speak, and was stopped once more--this time by

  Mr. Moy as well as by her own adviser. Sir Patrick went on.

  "Do you feel any doubt as to the entire propriety of your

  husband's conduct and your friend's conduct, now you have seen

  them and heard them, face to face?"

  Blanche answered again, with the same absence of reserve.

  "I ask them to forgive me," she said. "I believe I have done them

  both a great wrong."

  She looked at her husband first--then at Anne. Arnold attempted

  to leave his chair. Sir Patrick firmly restrained him. "Wait!" he

  whispered. "You don't know what is coming." Having said that, he

  turned toward Anne. Blanche's look had gone to the heart of the

  faithful woman who loved her. Anne's face was turned away--the

  tears were forcing themselves through the worn weak hands that

  tried vainly to hide them.

  The formal objections of the lawyers were registered once more.

  Sir Patrick addressed himself to his niece for the last time.

  "You believe what Arnold Brinkworth has said; you believe what

  Miss Silvester has said. You know that not even the thought of

  marriage was in the mind of either of them, at the inn. You

  know--whatever else may happen in the future--that there is not

  the most remote possibility of either of them consenting to

  acknowledge that they ever have been, or ever can be, Man and

  Wife. Is that enough for you? Are you willing, before this

  inquiry proceeds any farthe
r to take your husband's hand; to

  return to your husband's protection; and to leave the rest to

  me--satisfied with my assurance that, on the facts as they

  happened, not even the Scotch Law can prove the monstrous

  assertion of the marriage at Craig Fernie to be true?"

  Lady Lundie rose. Both the lawyers rose. Arnold sat lost in

  astonishment. Geoffrey himself--brutishly careless thus far of

  all that had passed--lifted his head with a sudden start. In the

  midst of the profound impression thus produced, Blanche, on whose

  decision the whole future course of the inquiry now turned,

  answered in these words:

  "I hope you will not think me ungrateful, uncle. I am sure that

  Arnold has not, knowingly, done me any wrong. But I can't go back

  to him until I am first _certain_ that I am his wife."

  Lady Lundie embraced her step-daughter with a sudden outburst of

  affection. "My dear child!" exclaimed her ladyship, fervently.

  "Well done, my own dear child!"

  Sir Patrick's head dropped on his breast. "Oh, Blanche! Blanche!"

  Arnold heard him whisper to himself; "if you only knew what you

  are forcing me to!"

  Mr. Moy put in his word, on Blanche's side of the question.

  "I must most respectfully express my approval also of the course

  which the young lady has taken," he said. "A more dangerous

  compromise than the compromise which we have just heard suggested

  it is difficult to imagine. With all deference to Sir Patrick

  Lundie, his opinion of the impossibility of proving the marriage

  at Craig Fernie remains to be confirmed as the right one. My own

  professional opinion is opposed to it. The opinion of another

  Scottish lawyer (in Glasgow) is, to my certain knowledge, opposed

  to it. If the young lady had not acted with a wisdom and courage

  which do her honor, she might have lived to see the day when her

  reputation would have been destroyed, and her children declared

  illegitimate. Who is to say that circumstances may not h appen in

  the future which may force Mr. Brinkworth or Miss Silvester--one

  or the other--to assert the very marriage which they repudiate

  now? Who is to say that interested relatives (property being

  concerned here) may not in the lapse of years, discover motives

  of their own for questioning the asserted marriage in Kent? I

  acknowledge that I envy the immense self-confidence which

  emboldens Sir Patrick to venture, what he is willing to venture

  upon his own individual opinion on an undecided point of law."

  He sat down amidst a murmur of approval, and cast a

  slyly-expectant look at his defeated adversary. "If _that_

  doesn't irritate him into showing his hand," thought Mr. Moy,

  "nothing will!"

  Sir Patrick slowly raised his head. There was no

  irritation--there was only distress in his face--when he spoke

  next.

  "I don't propose, Mr. Moy, to argue the point with you," he said,

  gently. "I can understand that my conduct must necessarily appear

  strange and even blameworthy, not in your eyes only, but in the

  eyes of others. My young friend here will tell you" (he looked

  toward Arnold) "that the view which you express as to the future

  peril involved in this case was once the view in my mind too, and

  that in what I have done thus far I have acted in direct

  contradiction to advice which I myself gave at no very distant

  period. Excuse me, if you please, from entering (for the present

  at least) into the motive which has influenced me from the time

  when I entered this room. My position is one of unexampled

  responsibility and of indescribable distress. May I appeal to

  that statement to stand as my excuse, if I plead for a last

  extension of indulgence toward the last irregularity of which I

  shall be guilty, in connection with these proceedings?"

  Lady Lundie alone resisted the unaffected and touching dignity

  with which those words were spoken.