CHAPTER THE NINTH.
MARRIED.
“Married! Married! Married!”
The monstrous vibrating throb of the express train seemed ceaselessly repeating that one word. The sound of it was beaten in upon Monica’s brain as with hot hammers, and yet she did not feel as if she understood what it meant, or realised what happened to her. One thing only was clear to her; that she had been torn away from Trevlyn, from her father, who, though pronounced convalescent, was still in a very precarious state; from Arthur, who after the anxiety and excitement of the past days, was prostrated by a sharp attack of illness; from everything and everybody she held most dear; and cast as it were upon the mercy of a comparative stranger, who did not seem the less strange to her, because he had the right to call himself her husband.
What had happened during the three days that had passed since Monica had stood beside Randolph in the little cliff church, and had pledged herself to him for better or worse?
She herself could not have said, but the facts can be summed up in a few words.
When once Lord Trevlyn had seen Monica led by Randolph to his bedside in her bridal white, and knew that they were man and wife, a change for the better had taken place in his condition, very slight at first, but increasing every hour. Little by little the danger passed away, and for the time at least his life was safe.
But Monica’s mind, no sooner relieved on his account, was thrown into fresh misery and suspense by a bad attack of illness on Arthur’s part, and the strain upon her was so great, that, coming as it did after all the mental conflict she had lately endured, her own health threatened to break down, and this caused no small anxiety in the minds of all about her.
“There is only one thing to be done, and that is to take her right away out of it all,” said Tom Pendrill, with authority. “She will break down as sure as fate if she stays here. The associations of the place are quite too much for her. She will have a brain or nervous fever if she is not taken away. You have a house in London, Trevlyn? Take her there and keep her quiet, but let her have change of scene; let her see fresh faces, and get into new habits, and see the world from a fresh stand-point. It will do her all the good in the world. She may rebel at first, and think herself miserable; but look at her now. What can be worse than the way in which she is going on? Trevlyn is killing her, whether she knows it or not. Let us see what London can do for her.”
No dissentient voice was raised against this suggestion. The earl, Lady Diana, Randolph, and even Arthur, were all in accord, and Monica heard her sentence with that unnatural quietude that had disturbed them all so much.
She did not protest or rebel, but accepted her fate very quietly, as she had accepted the marriage that had been the preliminary step.