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Updated: June 15, 2025
Do you think, if she knew the truth, she would write of a wretch who has mortally injured her as she writes here? They have put her off with the excuse that she innocently sends to me. I see it as plainly as I see you! Mr. Brinkworth and Sir Patrick are in league to keep us both in the dark. Dear child! I owe her an atonement. If nobody else opens her eyes, I will do it.
She repeated the words, "What did I do at the inn?" and gave it up in despair. Holding by the table, she came close to him and laid her hand on his arm. "Do you refuse to marry me?" she asked. He saw the vile opportunity, and said the vile words. "You're married already to Arnold Brinkworth."
"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.
They were the two last gentlemen in the would who could possibly be supposed to have any legitimate motive for meeting each other in a place of literary seclusion. One was Arnold Brinkworth, and the other was Geoffrey Delamayn. They had arrived together at Windygates that morning. Geoffrey had traveled from London with his brother by the train of the previous night.
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.
"Made sure of that? You have made an infernal mess of it! You don't understand the case!" The mulatto lawyer smiled. The rudeness of his client appeared only to amuse him. "Don't I?" he said. "Suppose you tell me where I am wrong about it? Here it is in outline only. On the fourteenth of August last your wife was at an inn in Scotland. A gentleman named Arnold Brinkworth joined her there.
"Rode round by Brinkworth Heath in two hours and a half," he was saying to Lady Alice, when Katherine listened. "That was fair going. I did not think you would have got Mrs. Ormonde to start without an escort." "We had an escort. Lord Francis Carew and Mr. De Burgh came over to luncheon, and they rode with us." "Ha, Errington! you see the result of leaving this fair lady's side all unguarded!
When you and he met at the inn " He paused, and looked at her. Her hands were beginning to tremble in his. "When you and Arnold Brinkworth met at the inn," he resumed, "the law of Scotland had made you a married woman. On the day, and at the hour, when he wrote those lines at the back of your letter to him, you were Geoffrey Delamayn's wedded wife!" He stopped, and looked at her again.
You are quite wrong in supposing that he has only to speak, and to set this matter right. It has passed entirely beyond his control. The mischief was done when Arnold Brinkworth spent those unlucky hours with you at Craig Fernie." "Oh, Sir Patrick, if I had only known that, before I went to Fulham this morning!" She shuddered as she said the words.
The little gold lid in the knob of the ivory cane flew up, and the old gentleman rewarded himself for that neat retort with a pinch of snuff. At the same moment Blanche made her appearance on the scene. "Mr. Brinkworth," she said, "I shall want you directly. Uncle, it's your turn to play." "Bless my soul!" cried Sir Patrick, "I forgot the game."
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