“But, anyhow, I am sure if that villain had any claim at all on Odalite, brute that he was, he would have pushed it to extremity!”
“No doubt he would if he had dared, but he dared not, Le! If he had claimed Odalite as his lawful wife, on the ground that his former marriage with Mrs. Wright was an illegal one, upon account of the fact of his having had a wife living at the time it was contracted, and dead since, be sure that the honest California woman, finding herself deceived, would have prosecuted him for bigamy, and our courts would have punished him with the utmost rigor of the law! So, though he might have a lawful claim on Odalite, he dared not press it! No, nor dared he even to remain in the country. You know that he has sailed for England.”
“Yes, thank Heaven! But, oh, Aunt Elfrida, if there should be any foundation for your fears that Anglesea has any claim on Odalite, then Uncle Abel should see to it at once and have her freed from such a monster by course of law,” vehemently exclaimed Le.
“And so he should, if there were any certainty about that claim; but there is none. Odalite may be free or she may not be. We cannot be sure until we know more of the man’s antecedents. Le, you must be patient, and very prudent. Odalite’s position is a very delicate one. You must not think of entering into any engagement with her at present, or doing anything, or saying anything, or writing anything that shall compromise her in the very slightest degree. I am very sure that you would not, Le.”
“I would die first,” earnestly answered the youth.
“You can write to her as often as you please as a brother might write to a sister, and through me, always. Remember that, and wait for events, Le. Be sure of one thing—under no circumstances will Abel Force ever give his daughter to Angus Anglesea. If he—Anglesea—should ever be able to prove that the ceremony performed in All Faith Church last Tuesday was a lawful one, Odalite’s father would at once institute legal proceedings to liberate his daughter from that merely nominal and most disreputable marriage. Be sure of that, Le, and be patient. You cannot return before three years, and in three years much may happen—indeed, much must happen!”
“I will try to be patient, Aunt Elfrida. But, oh, what a fate is mine!”
“It is a hard fate, Le; but Odalite shares it. If you must live in suspense, why, so must she. Bear your fate for her sake, Le.”
“I will! I will, Aunt Elfrida!” earnestly answered the youth.
“And remember, Le, you are not to breathe to Odalite my doubts as to her freedom from Anglesea’s yoke.”