A shudder ran through Catharine’s frame; but she did not look up. “You will be sure and come,” persisted the woman. “Yes,” said Catharine, looking up, “it must be. God knows, if it were not to prevent sin, I would never remind him of all he wishes to forget. I would live and die alone, rather than intrude my wrongs upon his happiness. But he leaves me no choice.” “You are resolute?” questioned the woman. “Yes; the thing may kill me, but I will come. Still I warn you, woman, it will be to meet unbelief and disgrace. I have no proof to offer, and have outlived my own identity.” The woman made an irresolute movement; plunged a hand into her pocket, and took it out again empty. Then, casting another glance at the trembling creature before her, she gave a more deliberate plunge, and drew forth an old pocket-book, from which she extracted, first a diamond ear-ring, which she clasped in the palm of one hand with two fingers, while she searched among some soiled papers with the other. At last she drew forth a scrap of paper, which she carefully unfolded and read. Catharine watched these movements with a look of wistful curiosity. The strange woman had won a sort of authority over her, and for the time she was almost helpless. “You are determined to do the right thing, and put a stop to this marriage,” she said, holding the paper irresolutely. “I must,” said Catharine. “It will ruin me, and ruin him; but that is better than a great sin. They will not believe me; but I will speak.” “They shall believe you!” answered the woman peremptorily, “ask him if he dares dispute that?” Catharine took the paper, which Jane Kelly held out, and glanced at it; but her head grew giddy, and the letters floated like traceries of mist before her eyes. She only knew that it was a certificate of her own marriage with George De Marke. Her hands began to tremble violently: she burst into a passion of tears. “Your courage will not fail,” said Jane, “I may be sure of that.” “My duty cannot fail; I must do it,” answered Catharine, sadly. “Then I will go home. Remember, they will arrive at sunset. After that, you must not count on any time as safe.” “I know, I know,” murmured Catharine, gazing wistfully upon the certificate in her hand, “there can be no wavering, no doubt now: in this paper, God has unfolded my duty.” She looked around. The woman had disappeared. Catharine was alone with her God. CHAPTER LXXV. THE INTERRUPTED CEREMONY.