“Yes, sir.”
“What was it?”
“A Mr. George Conway,” replied Amanda, who seemed to feel that she had gone too far to conceal any thing.
“And the reason for this marriage?” said Mohun, in a low tone; “did she explain, or say any thing which explained to you, how such a union had ever taken place?”
“Yes, sir. They said so many things to each other, that I came to know all. The young lady was a daughter of a Mr. George Conway, and when she was a girl, had fallen in love with some worthless young man, who had persuaded her to elope with him and get married. He soon deserted her, when she fell in with this Mr. Mortimer and married him.”
“Did she know that he was her father’s murderer?”
“No, sir—not until after their marriage, I gathered.”
“Then,” said Mohun, who had suppressed all indications of emotion, and was listening coolly; “then it seems to me that she was wrong in taking shame to herself—or claiming credit—for the marriage.”
“Yes, sir,” returned Amanda, “and he told her as much.”
“So they had something like a quarrel?”