Love's bitterest cup

by Emma Dorothy Eliza Nevitte Southworth

“But you must remember from what paper you cut the notice that you have so carefully preserved,” suggested the judge.

“I did not cut it from any. There, again, is another reason why I cannot be sure of the date, or even of the name of the paper in which it was inserted. A thoughtful friend of the family—I do not remember who, whether it was our rector or some other—cut it out and gave it to me as a memento some days after the funeral. But, your honor, it seems to me that the date of the publication of the notice of the death is of very little consequence, as the fact remains that the event occurred on the twenty-fifth of August, 18—, while the marriage with which I am charged is said to have taken place on the first of the same month, which, if it did, was clearly illegal and of no effect, and constitutes no barrier to the marriage with Odalite, my present wife, which was solemnized at All Faith in the December following. But I say, on the contrary, that the marriage which I myself witnessed and arrested in the house of Mr. Abel Force, yesterday, April 1st, between Odalite Anglesea and Leonidas Force, was illegal, criminal and felonious; and I might now bring my wife before the criminal court on the charge of bigamy.”

“Col. Anglesea, you will do well to remember that this is not a criminal court, nor are we investigating a criminal charge. And govern yourself accordingly,” said the judge, speaking for the first time with great severity in tone and look.

Angus Anglesea bowed and was silent.

“As this question of my daughter’s freedom to contract marriage has been raised, your honor, I will crave your indulgence while I call your attention to this paper which I hold in my hand. It is a copy of the Angleton Advertiser, of August 20th, and contains an obituary notice to the ‘late Angus Anglesea, of Anglewood, colonel,’ etc., etc., with a sketch of his life and career, and a high eulogium of his character. This paper appears to be the organ of his family, published in his own town of Angleton, and on his manor of Anglewood, and should be some authority in their affairs. And yet it publishes the death of the master of the manor, who stands living before us. Even if my daughter had been, as she certainly never was, the wife of Angus Anglesea, such evidence as this—appearing to be true, though it was false—of the death of the man whom she had not seen for more than three years, or since her incomplete marriage with him was broken off at the altar by the appearance of his wife, would have seemed to leave her free to contract marriage without a shade of reproach. This paper was sent to me through the English mails, in duplicates, the first of which reached me in September, and was soon after forwarded to his wife, Mrs. Ann Maria Anglesea, at Mondreer. The second came three days later. Will your honor look at it?”

The judge took it, slowly examined the obituary notice and glowing eulogium of the late Col. Angus Anglesea, of Anglewood Manor, etc., etc., looked in amazement from the death notice to the living subject, and then laying down the sheet, with a frown, said:

“Mr. Force, this extraordinary publication has nothing whatever to do with the case in hand.”

Abel Force bowed in submission and sat down. His point, however, was gained. The judge had seen the paper, and could not help drawing his own conclusions.

Judge Blank then arose to give his decision, and said:

“Col. Angus Anglesea, it is not necessary to enter very deeply into the merits of this case. You have failed to prove any marital rights over the person of Odalite Anglesea, otherwise Odalite Force. I, therefore, remand her, as a minor, into the custody of her father, and I dismiss the case. Mr. Force, you can take your daughter away.”