‘At the Registrar’s, at R---, July 14th, 1854,’ returned Lucilla, with defiant gravity.
‘Last July!’ said Charles. ‘Ha! the young donkey was under age—hadn’t consent of guardian. I don’t believe the marriage will hold water. I’ll write to Stevens this minute.’
‘Well, that would be luck!’ exclaimed Rashe.
‘Much better than he deserves,’ added Charles, ‘to be such a fool as to run into the noose and marry the girl.’
Lucilla was trembling from head to foot, and a light gleamed in her eyes; but she spoke so quietly that her cousins did not apprehend her intention in the question—
‘You mean what you say?’
‘Of course I do,’ said Charles. ‘I’m not sure of the law, and some of the big-wigs are very cantankerous about declaring an affair of this sort null; but I imagine there is a fair chance of his getting quit for some annual allowance to her; and I’ll do my best, even if I had to go to London about it. A man is never ruined till he is married.’
‘Thank you,’ returned Lucilla, her lips trembling with bitter irony. ‘Now I know what you all are made of. We are obliged for your offered exertion, but we are not inclined to become traitors.’
‘Cilly! I thought you had more sense! You are no child!’
‘I am a woman—I feel for womanhood. I am a sister—I feel for my brother’s honour.’