But still Mr. Mollett had said nothing himself. He sat during all this time, wearily moving his head to and fro, as though the conversation were anything but comfortable to him. And, indeed, it cannot be presumed to have been very pleasant. He moved his head slowly and wearily to and fro; every now and then lifting up one hand weakly, as though deprecating any recurrence to circumstances so decidedly unpleasant. But Mr. Prendergast was determined that he should speak.
"Mr. Mollett," said he, "I must beg you to say in so many words, whether the statement of this lady is correct or is incorrect. Do you acknowledge her for your lawful wife?"
"He daren't deny me, sir," said the woman, who was, perhaps, a little too eager in the matter.
"Father, why don't you behave like a man and speak?" said his daughter, now turning upon him. "You have done ill to all of us;—to so many; but now—"
"And are you going to turn against me, Mary?" he whined out, almost crying.
"Turn against you! no, I have never done that. But look at mother. Would you let that gentleman think that she is—what I won't name before him? Will you say that I am not your honest-born child? You have done very wickedly, and you must now make what amends is in your power. If you do not answer him here he will make you answer in some worse place than this."
"What is it I am to say, sir?" he whined out again.
"Is this lady here your legal wife?"
"Yes, sir," said the poor man, whimpering.
"And that marriage ceremony which you went through in Dorsetshire with Miss Wainwright was not a legal marriage?"