A Country Gentleman and His Family

has been no need of any divorce. She was already married when⁠—she made believe to marry me. The delusion was mine alone. I hunted the man over half the continent. I did not dare to tell you what I was doing, lest it should prove to be a false hope. But at last I found him, and I have all the evidence. I have never had any wife but Chatty. She forgives me what was done in folly so long ago, before I ever saw her. There was no marriage. What was done was a mere idle form, in deference to my prejudices,” he said, with a short laugh of excitement. “I was a fool, it appears, all through; but it was not as a wise man that Chatty married me,” he said, turning to her. “Our marriage is as true as ever marriage was. I have no wife but Chatty. Mrs. Warrender, I have all the evidence. Don’t you believe me? Surely you must believe me!” Dick cried.

His voice was interrupted by a shrill little outburst from the sofa behind. “Hurrah! Hurrah!” cried little Geoff before Dick had ended. “Chatty, it was me that brought the first news! Chatty, are you happy now?”

Mrs. Warrender, in the act of going forward to the pair who stood before her awaiting her judgment, turned with a thrill of anxious terror. “Oh, hush, hush!” she cried, putting herself before the boy.

Theo, too, had turned round with a suppressed but passionate exclamation, clenching his hands. “Mother, I can think of nothing till that imp is out of the way.”

“He shall go, Theo. Speak to them, speak to them!” cried the mother anxiously, bending over the sofa, with an indescribable tumult in her heart. She had to leave her own child’s fate at its crisis to look after and protect this child who was none of hers, who was the stumbling-block in her son’s way. And yet her heart condemned her son, and took part with the little intruder. Thus Chatty for the moment was left to stand alone before her husband’s judge, but was not aware of it, thought nothing of it, in her confidence and joy. Warrender stood looking darkly after them till his mother had taken his stepson out of the room. The pause, perhaps, was useful in calming the excitement of all. When the door closed Theo turned round, mastering himself with an effort. Geoff had diverted the rush of hasty temper which was natural to him. He looked upon the newcomer less severely.

“We can have no interest,” he said, “but that your story should be true. But it cannot rest on your word, Cavendish. You have been deceived once; you may be deceived again. My mother is no judge of points of law, and she is favourable, too favourable, to you. You had better come with us into another room, and let us see what proofs you have of what you say.”

“That is quite just,” said Dick. “I’d like you to kiss that little beggar for me, Chatty; he knows what it is to stand by a man in trouble. It is all right, Warrender. Of course it is the interest of all of us that there should be no mistake. Send for Wilberforce, who will be impartial; and if you could have Longstaffe too⁠—”

Minnie came in, out of breath, at this stage of the affairs. “What does he say, Eustace⁠—oh, what does he say? Are you sure it is true? What has he got to say? And what does he mean about Mr. Longstaffe and Mr. Wilberforce? Aren’t you good enough for him? Can’t you judge without Wilberforce? Wilberforce,” she cried, with professional contempt for another clergyman, “is nothing so very wonderful; and he is his friend and will be sure to be on his side. Why can’t Eustace do?”

Mrs. Warrender, with her anxious face, had now come back again alone. She went up to Dick, holding out both her hands. “God bless you!” she said. “I believe you, dear Dick, every word you say. But everything must be made as clear as daylight both for her sake and your own.”

“I know it, dear mother,” he replied. “I am quite ready. I should be the first to ask for a full examination. Take care of my Chatty while I show my papers. I want to take my wife away with me. I cannot be parted from her again.”

“Oh, Dick! oh, Dick!” The mother, like the daughter, could find no other words to say.

Little Geoff found himself alone in Mrs. Warrender’s room. She had taken him there with much kindness and many tender words, and made a little nest for him upon the sofa. “Lie down and try to go to sleep,” she said, stooping to kiss him, a caress which half pleased, half irritated, Geoff. But he obeyed, for his head was still aching and dazed with the suddenness and strangeness of all that had passed. To lie down and try to sleep was not so hard for him as for most children of his age, and for the first moment no movement of revolt was in him. He lay down in the silence, not unwilling to rest his head on a soft pillow. But the fire of excitement was in Geoff’s veins, and a restlessness of energy and activity which after a minute or two forebade all possibility of rest. Something had happened to him which had never happened before. He had not been quite clear what it was at first; whether it was the wonder of Dick’s return or of his own part in it⁠—the fact that he had been the messenger and had discharged his trust. But presently it all came to him, as he lay quietly with his aching head pressed against the cool pillow. Geoff had encountered many new experiences in the last two years of his life, but he had not known at any time what personal violence was. Everybody round him had