Part 66 (1/2)
Mr. Camp's opinion given upon this, after certain questions had been asked and answered, differed from Sir Patrick's opinion, as given at Windygates. He too quoted the language used by the eminent judge--Lord Deas--but he drew an inference of his own from it. ”In Scotland, consent makes marriage,” he said; ”and consent may be proved by inference. I see a plain inference of matrimonial consent in the circ.u.mstances which you have related to me and I say you are a married woman.”
The effect produced on the lady, when sentence was p.r.o.nounced on her in those terms, was so distressing that Mr. Camp sent a message up stairs to his wife; and Mrs. Camp appeared in her husband's private room, in business hours, for the first time in her life. When Mrs. Camp's services had in some degree restored the lady to herself, Mr. Camp followed with a word of professional comfort. He, like Sir Patrick, acknowledged the scandalous divergence of opinions produced by the confusion and uncertainty of the marriage-law of Scotland. He, like Sir Patrick, declared it to be quite possible that another lawyer might arrive at another conclusion. ”Go,” he said, giving her his card, with a line of writing on it, ”to my colleague, Mr. Crum; and say I sent you.”
The lady gratefully thanked Mr. Camp and his wife, and went next to the office of Mr. Crum.
Mr. Crum was the older lawyer of the two, and the harder lawyer of the two; but he, too, felt the influence which the charm that there was in this woman exercised, more or less, over every man who came in contact with her. He listened with a patience which was rare with him: he put his questions with a gentleness which was rarer still; and when _he_ was in possession of the circ.u.mstances---behold, _his_ opinion flatly contradicted the opinion of Mr. Camp!
”No marriage, ma'am,” he said, positively. ”Evidence in favor of perhaps establis.h.i.+ng a marriage, if you propose to claim the man. But that, as I understand it, is exactly what you don't wish to do.”
The relief to the lady, on hearing this, almost overpowered her. For some minutes she was unable to speak. Mr. Crum did, what he had never done yet in all his experience as a lawyer. He patted a client on the shoulder, and, more extraordinary still, he gave a client permission to waste his time. ”Wait, and compose yourself,” said Mr.
Crum--administering the law of humanity. The lady composed herself. ”I must ask you some questions, ma'am,” said Mr. Crum--administering the law of the land. The lady bowed, and waited for him to begin.
”I know, thus far, that you decline to claim the gentleman,” said Mr.
Cram. ”I want to know now whether the gentleman is likely to claim _you._”
The answer to this was given in the most positive terms. The gentleman was not even aware of the position in which he stood. And, more yet, he was engaged to be married to the dearest friend whom the lady had in the world.
Mr. Crum opened his eyes--considered--and put another question as delicately as he could. ”Would it be painful to you to tell me how the gentleman came to occupy the awkward position in which he stands now?”
The lady acknowledged that it would be indescribably painful to her to answer that question.
Mr. Crum offered a suggestion under the form of an inquiry:
”Would it be painful to you to reveal the circ.u.mstances--in the interests of the gentleman's future prospects--to some discreet person (a legal person would be best) who is not, what I am, a stranger to you both?”
The lady declared herself willing to make any sacrifice, on those conditions--no matter how painful it might be--for her friend's sake.
Mr. Crum considered a little longer, and then delivered his word of advice:
”At the present stage of the affair,” he said, ”I need only tell you what is the first step that you ought to take under the circ.u.mstances.
Inform the gentleman at once--either by word of mouth or by writing--of the position in which he stands: and authorize him to place the case in the hands of a person known to you both, who is competent to decide on what you are to do next. Do I understand that you know of such a person so qualified?”
The lady answered that she knew of such a person.
Mr. Crum asked if a day had been fixed for the gentleman's marriage.
The lady answered that she had made this inquiry herself on the last occasion when she had seen the gentleman's betrothed wife. The marriage was to take place, on a day to be hereafter chosen, at the end of the autumn.
”That,” said Mr. Crum, ”is a fortunate circ.u.mstance. You have time before you. Time is, here, of very great importance. Be careful not to waste it.”
The lady said she would return to her hotel and write by that night's post, to warn the gentleman of the position in which he stood, and to authorize him to refer the matter to a competent and trust-worthy friend known to them both.
On rising to leave the room she was seized with giddiness, and with some sudden pang of pain, which turned her deadly pale and forced her to drop back into her chair. Mr. Crum had no wife; but he possessed a housekeeper--and he offered to send for her. The lady made a sign in the negative. She drank a little water, and conquered the pain. ”I am sorry to have alarmed you,” she said. ”It's nothing--I am better now.” Mr.
Crum gave her his arm, and put her into the cab. She looked so pale and faint that he proposed sending his housekeeper with her. No: it was only five minutes' drive to the hotel. The lady thanked him--and went her way back by herself.
”The letter!” she said, when she was alone. ”If I can only live long enough to write the letter!”
CHAPTER THE THIRTIETH.
ANNE IN THE NEWSPAPERS.
MRS. KARNEGIE was a woman of feeble intelligence and violent temper; prompt to take offense, and not, for the most part, easy to appease. But Mrs. Karnegie being--as we all are in our various degrees--a compound of many opposite qualities, possessed a character with more than one side to it, and had her human merits as well as her human faults. Seeds of sound good feeling were scattered away in the remoter corners of her nature, and only waited for the fertilizing occasion that was to help them to spring up. The occasion exerted that benign influence when the cab brought Mr. Crum's client back to the hotel. The face of the weary, heart-sick woman, as she slowly crossed the hall, roused all that was heartiest and best in Mrs. Karnegie's nature, and said to her, as if in words, ”Jealous of this broken creature? Oh, wife and mother is there no appeal to your common womanhood _here?_”
”I am afraid you have overtired yourself, ma'am. Let me send you something up stairs?”