wife! Without my consent? No, she is not his
wife."

"Sir, you must excuse me if I do not honour your intelligence or your
courtesy. I have said '_she is his wife_.' It is past a doubt that they
are married."

"I know not, I know not--O my Katherine, my Katherine!"

"I pray you, sit down, Councillor. You look faint and ill; and in faith
I am very sorry that, to make two people happy, others must be made so
wretched." She rose and filled a glass with wine, and offered it to
Joris, who was the very image of mental suffering,--all the fine colour
gone out of his face, and his large blue eyes swimming in unshed tears.

"Drink, sir. Upon my word, you are vastly foolish to grieve so. I
protest to you that Katherine is happy; and grieving will not restore
your loss."

"For that reason I grieve, madam. Nothing can give me back my child."

"Come, sir, every one has his calamity; and, upon my word, you are very
fortunate to have one no greater than the marriage of your daughter to
an agreeable man, of honourable profession and noble family."

"Five minutes only! How could the child think? To take her away thus was
cruel. Many things a woman needs when she journeys."

"Oh, indeed, Katharine was well considered! I myself packed a trunk for
her with every conceivable necessity, as well as gowns and manteaus of
the finest material and the most elegant fashion. If Dick had been
permitted, he would have robbed the Province for her. I assure you that
I had to lock my trunks to preserve a change of gowns for myself. When
the colonel returns, he will satisfy you that Katherine has done
tolerably well in her marriage with our nephew. And, indeed, I must beg
you to excuse me further. I have been in a hurry of affairs and emotions
for two days; and I am troubled with the vapours this morning, and feel
myself very indifferently."

Then Joris understood that he had been politely dismissed. But there was
no unkindness in the act. He glanced at the effusive little lady, and
saw that she was on the point of crying, and very likely in the first
pangs of a nervous headache; and, without further words, he left her.

The interview had given Joris very little comfort. At first, his great
terror had been that Katherine had fled without any religious sanction;
but no sooner was this fear dissipated, than he became conscious, in all
its force, of his own personal loss and sense of grievance. From Mrs.
Gordon's lodgings he went to those of Domi