'That is a common popular error,' said Sir Patrick. 'As I have already told you, witnesses are not legally necessary to make a marriage in Scotland. They are only valuable—as in this case—to help, at some future time, in proving a marriage that is in dispute.'
Geoffrey caught at the last words.
'The landlady and the waiter
'Yes. And, remember, if you choose to apply to one of my professional colleagues, he might possibly tell you they were married already. A state of the law which allows the interchange of matrimonial consent to be proved by inference leaves a wide door open to conjecture. Your friend refers to a certain lady, in so many words, as his wife. The lady refers to your friend, in so many words, as her husband. In the rooms which they have taken, as man and wife, they remain, as man and wife, till the next morning. Your friend goes away, without undeceiving any body. The lady stays at the inn, for some days after, in the character of his wife. And all these circumstances take place in the presence o f competent witnesses. Logically—if not legally—there is apparently an inference of the interchange of matrimonial consent here. I stick to my own opinion, nevertheless. Evidence in proof of a marriage (I say)—nothing more.'
While Sir Patrick had been speaking, Geoffrey had been considering with himself. By dint of hard thinking he had found his way to a decisive question on his side.
'Look here!' he said, dropping his heavy hand down on the table. 'I want to bring you to book, Sir! Suppose my friend had another lady in his eye?'
'Yes?'
'As things are now—would you advise him to marry her?'
'As things are now—certainly not!'
Geoffrey got briskly on his legs, and closed the interview.
'That will do,' he said, 'for him and for me.'
With those words he walked back, without ceremony, into the main thoroughfare of the room.
'I don't know who your friend is,' thought Sir Patrick, looking after him. 'But if your interest in the question of his marriage is an honest and a harmless interest, I know no more of human nature than the babe unborn!'
Immediately on leaving Sir Patrick, Geoffrey was encountered by one of the servants in search of him.
'I beg your pardon, Sir,' began the man. 'The groom from the Honorable Mr. Delamayn's—'
'Yes? The fellow who brought me a note from my brother this morning?'
'He's expected back, Sir—he's afraid he mustn't wait any longer.'
'Come here, and I'll give you the answer for him.'
He led the way to the writing-table, and referred to Julius's letter again. He ran his eye carelessly over it, until he reached the final lines: 'Come to-morrow, and help us to receive Mrs. Glenarm.' For a while he paused, with his eye fixed on that sentence; and with the happiness of three people—of Anne, who had loved him; of Arnold, who had served him; of Blanche, guiltless of injuring him—resting on the decision that guided his movements for the next day. After what had passed that morning between Arnold and Blanche, if he remained at Lady Lundie's, he had no alternative but to perform his promise to Anne. If he returned to his brother's house, he had no alternative but to desert Anne, on the infamous pretext that she was Arnold's wife.
He suddenly tossed the letter away from him on the table, and snatched a sheet of note-paper out of the writing-case. 'Here goes for Mrs. Glenarm!' he said to himself; and wrote back to his brother, in one line: 'Dear Julius, Expect me to-morrow. G. D.' The impassible man-servant stood by while he wrote, looking at his magnificent breadth of chest, and thinking what a glorious 'staying-power' was there for the last terrible mile of the coming race.
'There you are!' he said, and handed his note to the man.
'All right, Geoffrey?' asked a friendly voice behind him.
He turned—and saw Arnold, anxious for news of the consultation with Sir Patrick.
'Yes,' he said. 'All right.'
—————— NOTE.—There are certain readers who feel a
disposition to doubt Facts, when they meet with them in a work of
fiction. Persons of this way of thinking may be profitably
referred to the book which first suggested to me the idea of
writing the present Novel. The book is the Report of the Royal
Commissioners on The Laws of Marriage. Published by the Queen's
Printers For her Majesty's Stationery Office. (London, 1868.)
What Sir Patrick says professionally of Scotch Marriages in this
chapter is taken from this high authority. What the lawyer (in
the Prologue) says professionally of Irish Marriages is also
derived from the same source. It is needless to encumber these
pages with quotations. But as a means of satisfying my readers
that they may depend on me, I subjoin an extract from my list of
references to the Report of the Marriage Commission, which any
persons who may be so inclined can verify for themselves.
XIII., XXIV.
Deas. Report, page XVI.—Marriages of children of tender years.
Examination of Mr. Muirhead by Lord Chelmsford (Question
689).—Interchange of consent, established by inference.
Examination of Mr. Muirhead by the Lord Justice Clerk (Question
654)—Marriage where consent has never been interchanged.
Observations of Lord Deas. Report, page XIX.—Contradiction of
opinions between authorities. Report, pages XIX., XX.—Legal
provision for the sale of horses and dogs. No legal provision for
the marriage of men and women. Mr. Seeton's Remarks. Report, page
