“Oh! the doctor--he speaks to me!” she said. “I tell the young ladies he’s fallen in love with me. Oh! that ain’t so unlikely neither! Men as good have done it before now; but I wouldn’t have anything to say to him,” she continued, with her usual laugh. “I don’t make any brag of it, but I never forget as I’m a married woman. I don’t mind a little flirtation, just for amusement; but no man has ever had it in his power to brag that he’s gone further with me.” Then there was a pause, for disquiet began to resume its place in Edgar’s mind, and the poor creature before him had need of rest to regain her breath. She opened the book she held in her hand, and pushed to him across the table some written memoranda. “There’s where my chapel is as I was married in,” she said, “and there’s--it’s nothing but a copy, so, if you destroy it, it won’t do me any harm--the Scotch certificate. They were young folks that signed it, no older than myself, so be sure you’ll find them, if you want to. There, I’ve given you all that’s needed to prove what I say, and if you don’t clear me, I’ll tell the Master, that’s all, and he’ll do it, fast enough! Your fine Mrs. Arden, forsooth, that has no more right to be Mrs. Arden than you had to be Squire, won’t get off, don’t you think it, for now my blood’s up. I know what Arthur will do,” she cried, getting excited again. “He’s a man of sense, and a man of the world, he is. He’ll come to me on his knees, and offer a good big lump of money, or a nice allowance. Oh! I know him! He ain’t a poor, mean-spirited cur, to lick the hand that cuffs him, or to go against his own interest, like you.” Here another fit of coughing came on, worse than the first. Edgar, compassionate, took up the paper, and left the room. “I am afraid Miss Lockwood is ill. Will you send some one to her?” he said, to the first young lady he met. “Hasn’t she a dreadful cough? And she won’t do anything for it, or take any care of herself. I’ll send one of the young ladies from her own department,” said this fine personage, rustling along in her black silk robes. Mr. Watson was hovering near, to claim Edgar’s attention, about some of the arrangements for the approaching festivity. “Mr. Tottenham bade me say, sir, if you’d kindly step this way, into the hall,” said the walking gentleman. Poor Edgar! if he breathed a passing anathema upon enlightened schemes and disciples of social progress, I do not think that anyone need be surprised. CHAPTER X. A Plunge into the Maze. “Her plea is simply that she is married--that seems all there is to say.” “I am aware she says that,” said Mr. Tottenham. “I hope to heaven she can prove it, Earnshaw, and end this tempest in a tea-cup! I am sick of the whole affair! Has her husband deserted her, or is he dead, or what has become of him? I hope she gave you some proofs.”