From that hour till a certain conversation opened his eyes, struggle as he would against it, Leonard disliked Francisco. He had a foolish British aversion to his class, and Juanna’s marked partiality towards this particular individual did not lessen it in this instance. Prejudice is a strong thing, and when it is heightened by suspicion and jealousy, especially jealousy of the unacknowledged kind, it becomes formidable, both to him who entertains it and to him against whom it is entertained.
When their meal was done they proceeded up the river in the boats which they had captured from the slavers, each boat being rowed by the best oarsmen among the Settlement men. Including women and children their party numbered some sixty souls. At evening they passed the island where they had left the company of slavers, but could see no sign of life upon it, and never learned whether the men perished or escaped.
An hour later they encamped upon the bank of the river, and it was while they were sitting round the fire at night that Juanna told Leonard of the horrors which she had undergone during her dreadful sojourn with the slave caravan. She told him also how she had torn leaves from the Bible which she chanced to have with her, and fixed them upon the reeds whenever she could find an opportunity of so doing, in the hope that they might guide her father, should he return and attempt her rescue.
“It is all like a nightmare,” she said; “and as for that hideous farce of marriage with which it ended, I can scarcely bear to think of it.”
Then Francisco, who had been sitting silent, spoke for the first time.
“You speak, senora,” he said in his subdued voice, “of that ‘hideous farce of marriage,’ and I suppose you mean the ceremony which I performed between you and the Senor Outram, being forced to the act by Pereira. It is my duty to tell you both that, however irregular this marriage may have been, I do not believe it to be a farce. I believe that you are lawfully man and wife until death shall part you, unless indeed the Pope should annul the union, as he alone can do.”
“Nonsense, nonsense,” broke in Leonard; “you forget that there was no consent; that we are of another religion, and that the form was necessary to our plot.”
“The Church knows nothing of the reasons which lead to the undertaking of wedlock,” Francisco answered mildly. “They are various, and many of them would not bear investigation. But you were married without any open protest on your part, on Portuguese territory, according to Portuguese custom, and by a duly qualified priest. The fact that you are of the Protestant religion, and were united by the Catholic ritual, does not matter at all. For the purposes of the ceremony you accepted that ritual, as is customary when a Protestant marries a Catholic. It is disagreeable for me to have to tell you this, but the truth remains: I believe that you are man and wife before Heaven and the world.”[[1]]
[1] The Editor does not hold himself responsible for Father Francisco’s views on ecclesiastical marriage law.
Here Juanna jumped to her feet, and even in that light Leonard could see that her breast was heaving and her eyes shone with anger.