Part 57 (1/2)
”I was married by a registrar,” said Conolly; ”and as there is no such thing as civil marriage known to the Church, our union, from the ecclesiastical point of view, has no existence. We were not joined by G.o.d, in fact, in your sense. To deny her the opportunity of remarrying would be to compel her to live as an adulteress in the eye of the law, which, by the bye, would make me the father of Douglas's children. I cannot, merely because your people are afraid of scandal, take such a revenge on Marian as to refuse her the freedom she has sacrificed so much for. After all, since our marriage has proved a childless one, the only reason for our submitting to be handcuffed to one another, now that our hearts are no longer in the arrangement, is gone.”
”The game began at Sark,” said Marmaduke. ”Douglas stuck to her there like a leech. He's been about the house here a good deal since she came back. I often wondered you didnt kick him out. But, of course, it was not my business to say anything. Was she huffed into going? You hadnt any row with her just before, had you?
”We never had rows.”
”That was your mistake, Conolly. You should have heard poor Susanna and me fighting. We always ended by swearing we would never speak to one another again. Nothing duller than a smooth life. If you had given Marian something to complain of, she would have been too much taken up with it to bother about Douglas.”
”But have you ascertained whither they have gone?” said the clergyman, distractedly. ”Will you not follow them?”
”I know nothing of their movements. Probably they are crossing to New York.”
”But surely you ought to follow her,” said the Rev. George. ”You may yet be in time to save her from worse than death.”
”Yah!” said Marmaduke. ”Drop all that rot, George. Worse than death be hanged! Serves the family right! They are a jolly sight too virtuous: it will do them good to get shewn up a bit.”
”If you have no respect for the convictions of a priest,” exclaimed the Rev. George, shedding tears, ”you might at least be silent in the presence of a heartbroken brother and husband.”
”Oh, I dont want to shew any want of consideration for you or Conolly,”
said Marmaduke, sulkily. ”No doubt it's rough on you. But as to the feelings of the family, I tell you flatly that I dont care if the whole crew were brought to the Old Bailey to-morrow and convicted of bigamy.
It would take the conceit out of them.”
”I know not how to break this wretched news to my father,” said the Rev.
George, turning disconsolately from his sottish cousin to Conolly.
”It is no such uncommon occurrence. The less fuss made about it the better. She is not to blame, and I shall not be heard crying out misery and disgrace. Your family can very well follow my example. I have nothing to say against her, and I believe she has nothing to say against me. Nothing can prevent such publicity as a pet.i.tion for divorce must entail. Your father will survive it, never fear.”
The clergyman, remembering how vainly he had tried to change Conolly's intention when Marian was to be married, felt that he should succeed no better now that she was to be divorced. Silent and cast down, he sat dangling his handkerchief between his knees and leaning forward on his elbows toward the fire.
”You must excuse me if I see my way straight through to the end. I daresay you would rather realize it gradually, inevitable as it is,”
added Conolly, looking down with some pity at his drooping figure. ”I cannot help my habit of mind. When are you going to be married?” he continued, to Marmaduke.
”I dont know. The Countess is in a hurry. I'm not. But I suppose it will be some time in spring.”
”You have made up your mind to it at last?”
”Oh, I never had any particular objection to it, only I dont like to be hunted into a corner. Conny is a good little girl, and will make a steady wife. I dont like her mother; but as for herself, she is fond of me; and after all, I _did_ lead her a dance long ago. Besides, old boy, the Earl is forking out handsomely; and as I have some notion of settling down to farm, his dust will come in conveniently as capital.”
The clergyman rose, and slowly pulled on his woolen gloves.
”If youre going, I will see you part of the way,” said Marmaduke. ”I'll cheer you up. You know you neednt tell the governor until to-morrow.”
”I had rather go alone, if you intend to behave as you did before.”
”Never fear. I'm as sober as a judge now. Come along. Away with melancholy! Youll have Douglas for a brother-in-law before this time next year.”
This seemed to have been in the clergyman's mind; for he shook hands with his host more distantly than usual. When they were gone, Conolly went to the laboratory, and rang for his neglected dinner, which he ate with all a traveller's appet.i.te. From the dinner table he went straight to the organ, and played until a little before midnight, when, after a brief turn in the open air, he retired to bed, and was soon quietly asleep.