Beecher turned pale and red, as fear and passion swayed him alternately; but he never spoke.
“Is it really a marriage?” broke she in again, “or is it some mockery enacted by a degraded priest, and through the collusion of some scheming sharpers. Oh, Annesley! tell me frankly how you have been tricked into this ignominious contract!” And her accents, as she spoke this, assumed a tone of imploring affection that actually moved him. To this a sense of offended dignity quickly succeeded with him, and he said,—
“I cannot permit you to continue in this strain; I am rightfully, legally married, and the lady who shares my lot is as much the Viscountess Lackington as you are.”
She covered her face with both her hands, and sat thus for several minutes.
“Perhaps it is all for the best,” muttered she, in a low but audible accent,—“perhaps it is all for the best. Loss of rank, station, and name will fall the more lightly on those who so little understood how to maintain them with dignity.”
“And if I am threatened with the loss of my title and fortune,” cried Beecher, passionately, “is it exactly the time to heap these insults on me?”
Partly from the firmness of his manner as he uttered these words, partly that they were not devoid of truthful meaning, she accepted the reproof almost submissively.
“You must go over to England at once, Beecher,” said she, calmly. “You must place yourself immediately in Fordyce's hands, and secure the best advice the Bar affords. I would go with you myself, but that—” The deep flush that spread over Beecher's face as she paused here made the moment one of intense pain to each. “No matter,” resumed she; “there is only one danger I would warn you against. You dropped the word 'compromise;' now, Annesley, let nothing induce you to descend to this. Such a suggestion could only have come from those whose habits of life accept expediency in lieu of principle. Maintain your rights proudly and defiantly so long as they pertain to you; if law should at last declare that we are only usurpers—” She tried to finish, but the words seemed as if they would choke her, and after an effort almost convulsive she burst into tears. Scarcely less moved, Beecher covered his face with his hands and turned away.
“I will do whatever you advise me, Georgina,” said he at length, as he seated himself on the sofa at her side. “If you say I ought to go to England, I 'll set off at once.”
“Yes; you must be in London; you must be where you can have daily, hourly access to your lawyers; but you must also determine that this contest shall be decided by law, and law alone. I cannot, will not, believe that your rights are invalid. I feel assured that the House of Lords will maintain the cause of an acknowledged member of their order against the claims of an obscure pretender. This sympathy, however, will only be with you so long as you are true to yourself. Let the word 'compromise' be but uttered, and the generous sentiment will be withdrawn; therefore, Annesley,”—here she dropped her voice, and spoke more impressively,—“therefore, I should say, go over to England alone; be free to exercise untrammelled your own calm judgment,—keep your residence a secret from all save your law advisers,—see none else.”