“Not the slightest!” returned Henry. “When, indeed, she has been my wife,” he continued, “long enough to be, perhaps, a mother, she may not choose the publicity of a trial. Indeed, by that time, neither my aunt, nor even Lord L. himself, could wish, I should think, to go to extremities with so near a relation: even were the whole truth to come out. In short, it could answer no desirable purpose! Lord L. must know that his daughter would be more respectable in the eyes of the world as my wife, and supposed to be willingly so, than by seeking any redress the law could then give her, were it even possible to procure full evidence that the marriage was compulsory, which I expect we shall render impossible: so that I have no fears on that score. The three notes this evening (for I left my fellow behind on pretext of bringing my luggage) passed examination. I shall, therefore, have no difficulty, while abroad, in keeping up a regular correspondence in her name with all her friends. In short, when the numberless circumstances, however trivial in themselves, which I have now for so long caused to bear on the one point, receive this last crowning evidence, there will not remain the shadow of a doubt on the mind of any one, that Julia has only waited to be of age to elope with me. I expect, in fact, that the conviction on the mind of every one will be so strong, that they will not think it necessary to examine into any thing; and that one-half the precautions we have taken will prove quite unnecessary. It is not at all unlikely, too, that after a time she may, for the sake of being permitted to return to this country, and reside near her friends, consent to declare, personally, I mean, to her own family, that she married me willingly; in which case, we could take up our residence at the Craigs.” “In short,” continued Henry, “once she is in my power, I can compel her to do any thing! How is she to help herself I’d be glad to know?” “Fitz-Ullin is expected in the Sound, I find,” said the stranger, “what a confounded untimely blow that old beldam’s confession was! By the bye, I shall expect to be repaid the sums I have been obliged to give Jin of the Gins, to keep her silent till after your marriage; and now that she has been forestalled, (which was always what she feared,) and can never get any thing from either party, her demands for compensation will be exorbitant. Those, however, you must satisfy, now that you will have funds.” “How long is it now,” said Henry, “since she first consulted you on the possibility of making a market of her secret, without getting hanged.” “A few weeks,” replied the stranger, “previous to that cursed masquerade at Arandale, when I wrote to you on the subject of the admission ticket.” “That then was the first intimation you had,” said Henry, musing. “Had it not been,” he added, after a short silence, “for the fortunate chance of Ormond shooting himself, all must certainly have been lost.”