"Yes, but the poor child was out of her mind with grief; the whole tragedy got upon her nerves; to tell you the truth, she grew so strange, that they thought she was really going off her chump, and bundled her home,—where I believe some real hard knocks and shocks, brought her to her senses. She has a face you can't forget; awfully pretty, isn't she?"
"She is," assented the other.
"Look here, Mayne, if you will take my advice,—you will sit tight—and brazen it out!"
"But my dear fellow, how can I brazen out, what is a dead secret?"
"Everyone will know some day,—and there will be a most tremendous rumpus. Nancy is famous for her good looks, she has a whole string of admirers,—Finchie's nephew is making great running, and——"
"He may run till he is black in the face," interrupted Mayne, "he can't marry her."
"Aren't you rather a manger dog; you don't care about the girl yourself,—some day she may lose her heart to a fellow, and then what is to happen?"
"I'm afraid, I have not been quite candid with you, Teddy old man! although I have only seen this new Nancy twice; I find, that I do care for her. In old days I admired her character, and liked her as a pal, otherwise she only struck me as a sunburnt, talkative, tomboy. Now, added to her good points, she has become beautiful, and attractive; and if she hadn't a penny, I'd have come forward, have asked you to be my ambassador, and endeavoured to make friends. On these lines, I believe matters would have worked out all right, in time. Travers liked me, and I'd score there; but to find that Nancy is not only a beauty, but also a great heiress, is a bit too much to face. I couldn't stand a wife with heaps of money, and mines! I'd be buried in gold and grandeur, and lose my own identity—such as it is! I only wish I saw a clear and honourable road, out of the whole diabolical business!"
"That is to say, if the mine were to burst up, and the coffee to go smash. I suppose," added Dawson, after a moment's reflection, "there was no flaw in that hurried-up ceremony?"
"None! I made particular inquiries at the time. The parson had the Bishop's licence all right; they sent an express, and routed his lordship out of bed in the middle of the night. Without this licence, a marriage is no more valid, as a binding ceremony,—than taking a woman down to dinner."