"And they were married?"
"They were. I was present."
"Bravissimo!" said Lionel in a low voice. "you've done me a greater service than you think for, Mr.--what's-your-name. She'll never trouble me again."
"Only once more, my lord," said old Bowker solemnly.
"What the devil do you mean, sir?"
"Simply this, my lord. I understand your exclamation of delight at seeing your way legally to rid yourself of this woman, who is now nothing to you but an incumbrance. But you need not fear; you will not even have the trouble of consulting your lawyer in the matter. There is one who breaks up marriage-ties more effectually even than the Divorce Court, and that one is--Death!"
"Death!"
"Death. The woman of whom we have been speaking lies in the jaws of death. Her recovery, according to all human experience, is impossible. Dying,--and knowing herself to be dying,--she wishes to see you."
"To see me!" said Lionel scornfully; "O no, thank you; I won't interfere in the family party. The gentleman who has married her might object to my coming."
"The gentleman who married her in all noble trust and honour, she deserted directly she heard of your return. Overwhelmed by her cruelty, and by the full details of her story, which he heard from your brother, the then Lord Caterham, at the same time, he fell, smitten with an illness from which he is barely recovering. She is in another house far away from his, and on her deathbed she calls for you."