Eliza Hamlyn alighted from it--with her child and its nurse. As quickly as she could make opportunity after that scene enacted in her breakfast-room in London in the morning, that is, as soon as her husband's back was turned, she had quitted the house with the maid and child, to take the train for home, bringing with her--it was what she phrased it--her shameful tale. A tale that distressed Mrs. Carradyne to sickness. A tale that so abjectly terrified Captain Monk, when it was imparted to him on Tuesday morning, as to take every atom of fierceness out of his composition. "Not Hamlyn's wife!" he gasped. "Eliza!" "No, not his wife," she retorted, a great deal too angry herself to be anything but fierce and fiery. "That other woman, that false first wife of his, was not drowned, as was set forth, and she has come to claim him with their son." "His wife; their son," muttered the Captain as if he were bewildered. "Then what are you?--what is your son? Oh, my poor Eliza." "Yes, what are we? Papa, I will bring him to answer for it before his country's tribunal--if there be law in the land." No one spoke to this. It may have occurred to them to remember that Mr. Hamlyn could not legally be punished for what he did in innocence. Captain Monk opened the glass doors and walked on to the terrace, as if the air of the room were oppressive. Eliza went out after him. "Papa," she said, "there now exists all the more reason for your making my darling _your_ heir. Let it be settled without delay. He must succeed to Leet Hall." Captain Monk looked at his daughter as if not understanding her. "No, no, no," he said. "My child, you forget; trouble must be obscuring your faculties. None but a _legal_ descendant of the Monks could be allowed to have Leet Hall. Besides, apart from this, it is already settled. I have seen for some little time now how unjust it would be to supplant Harry Carradyne." "Is _he_ to be your heir? Is it so ordered?" "Irrevocably. I have told him so this morning." "What am I to do?" she wailed in bitter despair. "Papa, what is to become of me--and of my unoffending child?" "I don't know: I wish I did know. It will be a cruel blight upon us all. You will have to live it down, Eliza. Ah, child, if you and Katherine had only listened to me, and not made those rebellious marriages!" He turned away as he spoke in the direction of the church, to see that his orders were being executed there. Harry Carradyne ran after him. The clock was striking midday as they entered the churchyard. Yes, the workmen were at their work--taking down the bells. "If the time were to come over again, Harry," began Captain Monk as they were walking homeward, he leaning upon his nephew's arm, "I wouldn't have them put up. They don't seem to have brought luck somehow, as the parish has been free to say. Not but that it must be utter nonsense." "Well, no, they don't, uncle," assented Harry.