‘DEAR FATHER AND MOTHER,--I could not give Frederick up, as you desired me to do, because we love each other too much, so we were married this morning at the Earl’s Court Registrar Office, where you can see the entry if you doubt my word. Don’t be too angry with me. Remember I am your only child.--Yours affectionately, JENNY WALCHEREN.’ ‘That’s a nice letter for a man to receive, who has idolised his child for twenty years, isn’t it, Mrs Hindes?’ asked Mr Crampton sarcastically. ‘Remember she is my only child; indeed, I’m not likely to forget it, I can tell Miss Jenny that. And I’ll never see her again, not if I live another fifty years!’ ‘Oh, don’t say that. You don’t know what may happen to alter your mind,’ said Hannah, as she took the old man’s hand in hers and pressed it warmly. ‘You love her dearly, and she loves you. Things will not look so black when you are more used to them. After all, Mr Walcheren comes of a good family, and--’ ‘And is a Papist,’ interrupted Mr Crampton angrily, ‘a member of the faith which I despise and abhor and contemn--the faith which will bring my wretched daughter down to hell with himself. No, Mrs Hindes, my dear; you mean kindly, but don’t talk to me of ever seeing this matter in a better light.’ ‘But she is under age,’ said Henry Hindes, speaking for the first time. ‘How could he marry her without the written consent of her guardians?’ ‘By a lie, of course. He must have sworn she was of age. It came natural to a Papist, no doubt. They’re made of lies, religion and all! It’s a proper beginning for a life of deception and ingratitude.’ ‘But if the licence has been obtained under false pretences, Crampton,’ said Mr Hindes eagerly, ‘it may not yet be too late to set it aside. It may be possible to force him to return your daughter to you, at all events until she is of age. I don’t know the law accurately on this point, but I can go to town at once and inquire, and if there is a chance--if she could be returned to you--’ Mr Hindes’ urbanity seemed to have forsaken him at this juncture, for he trembled so violently that his very teeth chattered. ‘And do you suppose that I would take her back?’ cried Mr Crampton, vehemently. ‘What! take the casket without the jewel! Receive my daughter--no longer only my daughter, but that man’s plaything--in her dishonoured home? Never! I will see her dead first! I will stand by thankfully, and watch her coffin lowered into the ground, sooner than acknowledge her again as my child. I have no child now. My Jenny, in whom I took such pride, for whom I have made money and treasured and garnered it up, is gone from me. She is no longer mine. She is Walcheren’s wife. I have lost her more effectually than if she had been taken from me by death, as her brothers and sisters were, and never, so help me God! will I see her of my own free will, in this world again.’