‘Here I am—here I am, mamma!’
Mrs. Bircham uttered a shriek. She saw Walter behind, and the situation in a moment became clear to her.
‘You young fools!’ she said; ‘you disobedient, ungrateful children—you——’
‘Oh, mamma, one moment. We have been to Gretna Green—Walter and me!’
‘How dared you, sir?’ said Mrs. Bircham, turning upon the hapless lover—‘how dared you steal my innocent child away? And then you come here to triumph over us. Begone, sir—begone, sir, out of my house; begone out of my house!’
Kitty jumped up off her knees and caught Walter by the arm.
‘He does not go a step without me,’ she cried. ‘But, mamma, if you would have a moment’s patience, you would not think any more about it. We were going to London; but I came back, though I knew you would scold, to tell you. Listen to me one moment,’ cried Kitty, running all the words into one; ‘it’s something about Mrs. Blencarrow.’
Mrs. Bircham had her hands raised, presumably to draw down the curse of heaven upon the pair, but at this name she paused; her countenance changed.
‘Mrs. Blencarrow?’ she gasped, and could say no more.
‘You never heard such a thing in your life!’ cried Kitty. She dropped Walter’s arm, and came forward in front of him. ‘Mamma, I saw her name in the register; there it is—anyone can see it: Joan Blencarrow—there couldn’t be another person with such a name.’