he had married, though he might
have a dozen other wives all living. And she spoke of purity as though
it were a virtue which could be created and consecrated simply by the
action of her own heart, as though nothing outside,--no ceremony, no
ordinance,--could affect it. The same argument would enable her to live
with John Caldigate after he should come out of prison, even though, as
would then be the case, another woman would have the legal right of
calling herself Mrs. John Caldigate! On the previous day she had
declared that if she could not be his wife, she would be his mistress.
The mother knew what she meant,--that, let people call her by what name
they might, she would still be her husband's wife in the eye of God.
But she would not be so. And then she would not be pure. And, to Mrs.
Bolton, the worst of it was that this cloudiness had come upon her
daughter,--this incapacity to reason it out,--because the love of a
human being had become so strong within her bosom as to have superseded
and choked the love of heavenly things. But how should she explain all
this? 'I am not asking you to drop his name.'

'Drop his name! I will never drop it. I cannot drop it. It is mine. I
could not make myself anything but Mrs. John Caldigate if I would. And
he,' she said, taking the baby up from its cradle and pressing it to
her bosom, 'he shall be Daniel Caldigate to the day of his death. Do
you think that I will take a step that shall look like robbing my child
of his honest name,--that will seem to imply a doubt that he is not his
own father's honest boy,--that he is not a fitting heir to the property
which his forefathers have owned so long? Never! They may call me what
name they will, but I will call myself John Caldigate's wife as long as
I have a voice to make myself heard.'

It was the same protest over and over again, and it was vain to answer.
'You will not stay under your father's roof?'

'No; I have to live under my husband's roof.' Then Mrs. Bolton left the
room, apparently in anger. Though her heart within might be melting
with ruth, still it was necessary that she should assume a look of
anger. On the morrow she would have to show herself angry with a
vengeance, if she should then still be determined to carry out her
plan. And she thought that she was determined. What had pity to do with
it, or love, or moving heart-stirring words? Were not all these things
temptation from the Evil One, if they were allowed to int