"Why, the thing grows more and more mysterious. Given the fact that Lord Fylingdale is a reprobate, with no principle and no religion, yet he would not pass off another woman as Molly. She would have to be a woman of the vilest character. I do not think there is a woman in Lynn who could be persuaded to such an act of villainy. No, it is impossible; the clerk could not be deceived; the clergyman—to be sure he is a fit companion for the bridegroom—would not—could not—stoop so low. Think, Jack. Molly stoutly declares that she has not left the house for any purpose whatever. That is a plain assertion. Then we have the evidence of yourself, of the clerk, of the registers, and of the two whose evidence might not be considered trustworthy—the bridegroom and the minister. I do not understand. You say that Molly was dressed in a cloak that you recognised?"
"In her pink silk cloak, such as she throws over her shoulders at the assembly."
"There is no escape, I fear, no escape, that I can see. What does it mean? Why does Molly make this assertion? She must know that it cannot undo the wedding."
"I cannot so much as guess. Molly is the most candid and the most truthful of women. She cannot lie. It is impossible. There must be some dreadful mistake."
"She is, as you say, of a most truthful nature. Yet—how to explain? What does it mean?"
"I saw her hand placed in the bridegroom's, and I heard the words. Then, for my heart sank, I came away."
"Tell me again. When you left her last night, she was fully resolved not to keep her promise."
"She was fully resolved, I say. I have her letter—the letter which she wrote with my help, the letter which I ought to have sent to his lordship."
I lugged it out of my pocket; the vicar read it. "Humph," he said, "it is written as if by a supercargo—but that matters nothing. The meaning of it is plain. Her resolution is fixed. She was agitated, Jack."
"Naturally she was agitated at finding the man, whom she was to marry out of respect and not for love, was unworthy of the least respect."