“And when did you learn all this, Jasper?” she asked, calmly; for a light, a fearful yet most clear illumination began to dawn upon her mind.
“Last night. And I rode down this morning to the church, to inspect the register. It is as I was told; there is no trace of the record which we signed, and saw witnessed, on its pages.”
“And to what end should Verity and Alderly have done this great crime needlessly?”
“Villains themselves, they fancied that I too was a villain; and that, if not then, at some after time, I should desire to profit by their villainy, and should then be in their power.”
“Ha!” she said, still maintaining perfect self-possession. “It seems, at least, that their villainy was wise, was prophetical.”
“Theresa!” his voice was stern, and harsh, and threatening—his brow as black as midnight.
“Pardon me!” she said. “Pardon me, Jasper; but you should make allowance for some feeling in a woman. I am, then, looked upon as a lost, fallen wretch, as a disgrace to my name and my sex, a concubine, a harlot—is it not so, Jasper?”
“Alas! alas! Theresa!”
“And you would have me?—speak!”
“I would not have you do it; God knows! it goes nigh to break my heart to think of it—I only tell you what alone can save us—”