"Do not be so sad, you have nothing to reproach yourself with."
"That is some consolation, dear girl," replied Beauchamp, in a low voice, "but still I must be sad. How can it be otherwise, when I have to part with you for a time even at the very moment I call you my own?"
Isabella did not reply, but her cheek varied, first glowing warmly, then becoming deadly pale again.
"Where is Ned Hayward?" exclaimed Sir John Slingsby, looking round, "where the devil have you been, Ned?" he continued, seeing his young friend coming in at the vestry-door.
"I have been horsewhipping Wharton," answered Ned Hayward, in an indifferent tone; "but now, Lenham, what are you going to do in this business?"
"To go to London directly," answered Beauchamp, "and bring this matter to an issue at once."
"Pooh, the woman is not married to you at all!" cried Sir John Slingsby, "the whole thing is a farce; still I think you are right."
"I am quite sure you are," said Ned Hayward, "and I will go with you, if you will let me, Lenham. But first we must talk with good Widow Lamb; examine these papers of hers accurately; ascertain exactly all the circumstances and be prepared with every sort of evidence and information. Cheer up, cheer up, my dear lord. Honour and straightforward dealing always set these things right at last. Shall I call in the old woman? she is standing out there by the vestry-door."
"By all means," said Dr. Miles, "it may be as well to make all these inquiries here, and determine at once what is to be done. The crowd of gaping idlers from Tarningham will disperse in the meantime--sit down here, Isabella, and be firm, my child, God does not desert those who trust and serve him."
While he was speaking, Ned Hayward had beckoned Widow Lamb and Stephen Gimlet into the vestry, and Dr. Miles, taking the papers from the old woman's hands, examined them carefully.