"Let us remember these facts," he resumed. "Hester is in a critical state of life and mind. She imagines herself to be in love with my cousin Philip Meryon, a worthless man, without an ounce of conscience where women are concerned, who, in my strong belief, is already married under the ambiguities of Scotch law, though his wife, if she is his wife, left him some years ago, detests him, and has never been acknowledged. I have convinced him at last--this morning--that I mean to bring this home to him. But that does not dispose of the thing--finally. Hester is in danger--in danger from herself. She is at war with her family--with the world. She believes nobody loves her--that she is and always has been a pariah at home--and with her temperament she is in a mood for desperate things. Tell her now that she is illegitimate--let your sister Edith go talking to her about 'disgrace'--and there is no saying what will happen. She will say--and think--that she has no responsibilities, and may do what she pleases. There is no saying what she might do. We might have a tragedy that none of us could prevent." Alice lifted her head. "I could go away with her," she said, imploringly. "I could watch over her day and night. But let me put this thing straight now publicly. Indeed--indeed, it is time." "You mean you wish to bring an action? In that case you would have to return to give evidence." "Yes--for a short time. But that could be managed. She should never see the English papers--I could promise that." "And what is to prevent Philip Meryon telling her? At present he is entirely ignorant of her parentage. I have convinced myself of that this morning. He has no dealings with the people here, nor they with him. What has been happening here has not reached him. And he is really off to-night. We must, of course, always take the risk of his knowing, and of his telling her. A libel action would convert that risk into a certainty. Would it not simply forward whatever designs he may have on her--for I do not believe for a moment he will abandon them--it will be a duel, rather, between him and us--would it not actually forward his designs--to tell her?" Alice did not reply. She sat wringing her delicate hands in a silent desperation; while Catharine opposite was lost in the bewilderment of the situation--the insistence of the woman, the refusal of the man.