As soon as the general stupefaction was allayed, the generalincredulity asserted itself as a matter of course.

The man who first declared that "seeing" was "believing" laid hisfinger (whether he knew it himself or not) on one of thefundamental follies of humanity. The easiest of all evidence toreceive is the evidence that requires no other judgment to decideon it than the judgment of the eye--and it will be, on thataccount, the evidence which humanity is most ready to credit, aslong as humanity lasts. The eyes of every body looked atGeoffrey; and the judgment of every body decided, on the evidencethere visible, that the surgeon must be wrong. Lady Lundieherself (disturbed over her dinner invitations) led the generalprotest. "Mr. Delamayn in broken health!" she exclaimed,appealing to the better sense of her eminent medical guest."Really, now, you can't expect us to believe that!"

Stung into action for the second time by the startling assertionof which he had beenmade the subject, Geoffrey rose, and looked the surgeon,steadily and insolently, straight in the face.

"Do you mean what you say?" he asked.

"Yes."

"You point me out before all these people--"

"One moment, Mr. Delamayn. I admit that I may have been wrong indirecting the general attention to you. You have a right tocomplain of my having answered too publicly the public challengeoffered to me by your friends. I apologize for having done that.But I don't retract a single word of what I have said on thesubject of your health."

"You stick to it that I'm a broken-down man?"

"I do."

"I wish you were twenty years younger, Sir!"

"Why?"

"I'd ask you to step out on the lawn there and I'd show youwhether I'm a broken-down man or not."

Lady Lundie looked at her brother-in-law. Sir Patrick instantlyinterfered.

"Mr. Delamayn," he said, "you were invited here in the characterof a gentleman, and you are a guest in a lady's house."

"No! no!" said the surgeon, good humoredly. "Mr. Delamayn isusing a strong argument, Sir Patrick--and that is all. If I_were_ twenty years younger," he went on, addressing himself toGeoffrey, "and if I _did_ step out on the lawn with you, theresult wouldn't affect the question between us in the least. Idon't say that the violent bodily exercises in which you arefamous have damaged your muscular power. I assert that they havedamaged your vital power. In what particular way they haveaffected it I don't consider myself bound to tell you. I simplygive you a warning, as a matter of common humanity. You will dowell to be content with the success you have already achieved inthe field of athletic pursuits, and to alter your mode of lifefor the future. Accept my excuses, once more, for having saidthis publicly instead of privately--and don't forget my warning."

He turned to move away to another part of the room. Geoffreyfairly forced him to return to the subject.

"Wait a bit," he said. "You have had your innings. My turn now. Ican't give it words as you do; but I can come to the point. And,by the Lord, I'll fix you to it! In ten days or a fortnight fromthis I'm going into training for the Foot-Race at Fulham. Do yousay I shall break down?"

"You will probably get through your training."

"Shall I get through the race?"

"You may _possibly_ get through the race. But if you do--"

"If I do?"

"You will never run another."

"And never row in another match?"

"Never."

"I have been asked to row in the Race, next spring; and I havesaid I will. Do you tell me, in so many words, that I sha'n't beable to do it?"

"Yes--in so many words."

"Positively?"

"Positively."

"Back your opinion!" cried Geoffrey, tearing his betting-book outof his pocket. "I lay you an even hundred I'm in fit condition torow in the University Match next spring."

"I don't bet, Mr. Delamayn."

With that final reply the surgeon walked away to the other end ofthe library. Lady Lundie (taking Blanche in custody) withdrew, atthe same time, to return to the serious business of herinvitations for the dinner. Geoffrey turned defiantly, book inhand, to his college friends about him. The British blood was up;and the British resolution to bet, which successfully defiescommon decency and common-law from one end of the country to theother, was not to be trifled with.

"Come on!" cried Geoffrey. "Back the doctor, one of you!"

Sir Patrick rose in undisguised disgust, and followed thesurgeon. One, Two, and Three, invited to business by theirillustrious friend. shook their thick heads at him knowingly, andanswered with one accord, in one eloquent word--"Gammon!"

"One of _you_ back him!" persisted Geoffrey, appealing to the twochoral gentlemen in the back-ground, with his temper fast risingto fever heat. The two choral gentlemen compared notes, as usual."We weren't born yesterday, Smith?" "Not if we know it, Jones."

"Smith!" said Geoffrey, with a sudden assumption of politenessominous of something unpleasant to come.

Smith said "Yes?"--with a smile.

"Jones!"

Jones said "Yes?"--with a reflection of Smith.

"You're a couple of infernal cads--and you haven't got a hundredpound between you!"

"Come! come!" said Arnold, interfering for the first time. "Thisis shameful, Geoffrey!"

"Why the"--(never mind what!)--"won't they any of them take thebet?"

"If you must be a fool," returned Arnold, a little irritably onhis side, "and if nothing else will keep you quiet, _I'll_ takethe bet."

"An even hundred on the doctor!" cried Geoffrey. "Done with you!"

His highest aspirations were satisfied; his temper was in perfectorder again. He entered the bet in his book; and made his excusesto Smith and Jones in the heartiest way. "No offense, old chaps!Shake hands!" The two choral gentlemen were enchanted with him."The English aristocracy--eh, Smith?" "Blood and breeding--ah,Jones!"

As soon as he had spoken, Arnold's conscience reproached him: notfor betting (who is ashamed of _that_ form of gambling inEngland?) but for "backing the doctor." With the best intentiontoward his friend, he was speculating on the failure of hisfriend's health. He anxiously assured Geoffrey that no man in theroom could be more heartily persuaded that the surgeon was wrongthan himself. "I don't cry off from the bet," he said. "But, mydear fellow, pray understand that I only take it to please_you._"

"Bother all that!" answered Geoffrey, with the steady eye tobusiness, which was one of the choicest virtues in his character."A bet's a bet--and hang your sentiment!" He drew Arnold by thearm out of ear-shot of the others. "I say!" he asked, anxiously."Do you think I've set the old fogy's back up?"

"Do you mean Sir Patrick?"

Geoffrey nodded, and went on.

"I haven't put that little matter to him yet--about marrying inScotland, you know. Suppose he cuts up rough with me if I try himnow?" His eye wandered cunningly, as he put the question, to thefarther end of the room. The surgeon was looking over aport-folio of prints. The ladies were still at work on theirnotes of invitation. Sir Patrick was alone at the book-shelvesimmersed in a volume which he had just taken down.

"Make an apology," suggested Arnold. "Sir Patrick may be a littleirritable and bitter; but he's a just man and a kind man. Say youwere not guilty of any intentional disrespect toward him--and youwill say enough."

"All right!"

Sir Patrick, deep in an old Venetian edition of The Decameron,found himself suddenly recalled from medieval Italy to modernEngland, by no less a person than Geoffrey Delamayn.

"What do you want?" he asked, coldly.

"I want to make an apology," said Geoffrey. "Let by-gones beby-gones--and that sort of thing. I wasn't guilty of anyintentional disrespect toward you. Forgive and forget. Not half abad motto, Sir--eh?"

It was clumsily expressed--but still it was an apology. Not evenGeoffrey could appeal to Sir Patrick's courtesy and Sir Patrick'sconsideration in vain.

"Not a word more, Mr. Delamayn!" said the polite old man. "Acceptmy excuses for any thing which I may have said too sharply, on myside; and let us by all means forget the rest."

Having met the advance made to him, in those terms, he paused,expecting Geoffrey to leave him free to return to the Decameron.To his unutterable astonishment, Geoffrey suddenly stooped overhim, and whispered in his ear, "I want a word in private withyou."

Sir Patrick started back, as if Geoffrey had tried to bite him.

"I beg your pardon, Mr. Delamayn--what did you say?"

"Could you give me a word in private?"

Sir Patrick put back the Decameron; and bowed in freezingsilence. The confidence of the Honorable Geoffrey Delamayn wasthe last confidence in the world into which he desired to bedrawn. "This is the secret of the apology!" he thought. "What canhe possibly want with Me?"

"It's about a friend of mine," pursued Geoffrey; leading the waytoward one of the windows. "He's in a scrape, my friend is. And Iwant to ask your advice. It's strictly private, you know." Therehe came to a full stop--and looked to see what impression he hadproduced, so far.

Sir Patrick declined, either by word or g esture, to exhibit theslightest anxiety to hear a word more.

"Would you mind taking a turn in the garden?" asked Geoffrey.

Sir Patrick pointed to his lame foot. "I have had my allowance ofwalking this morning," he said. "Let my infirmity excuse me."

Geoffrey looked about him for a substitute for the garden, andled the way back again toward one of the convenient curtainedrecesses opening out of the inner wall of the library. "We shallbe private enough here," he said.

Sir Patrick made a final effort to escape the proposedconference--an undisguised effort, this time

"Pray forgive me, Mr. Delamayn. Are you quite sure that you applyto the right person, in applying to _me?_"

"You're a Scotch lawyer, ain't you?"

"Certainly."

"And you understand about Scotch marriages--eh?"

Sir Patrick's manner suddenly altered.

"Is _that_ the subject you wish to consult me on?" he asked.

"It's not me. It's my friend."

"Your friend, then?"

"Yes. It's a scrape with a woman. Here in Scotland. My frienddon't know whether he's married to her or not."

"I am at your service, Mr. Delamayn."

To Geoffrey's relief--by no means unmixed with surprise--SirPatrick not only showed no further reluctance to be consulted byhim, but actually advanced to meet his wishes, by leading the wayto the recess that was nearest to them. The quick brain of theold lawyer had put Geoffrey's application to him for assistance,and Blanche's application to him for assistance, together; andhad built its own theory on the basis thus obtained. "Do I see aconnection between the present position of Blanche's governess,and the present position of Mr. Delamayn's 'friend?' " thoughtSir Patrick. "Stranger extremes than _that_ have met me in myexperience. Something may come out of this."

The two strangely-assorted companions seated themselves, one oneach side of a little table in the recess. Arnold and the otherguests had idled out again on to the lawn. The surgeon with hisprints, and the ladies with their invitations, were safelyabsorbed in a distant part of the library. The conference betweenthe two men, so trifling in appearance, so terrible in itsdestined influence, not over Anne's future only, but over thefuture of Arnold and Blanche, was, to all practical purposes, aconference with closed doors.

"Now," said Sir Patrick, "what is the question?"

"The question," said Geoffrey, "is whether my friend is marriedto her or not?"

"Did he mean to marry her?"

"No."

"He being a single man, and she being a single woman, at thetime? And both in Scotland?"

"Yes."

"Very well. Now tell me the circumstances."

Geoffrey hesitated. The art of stating circumstances implies thecultivation of a very rare gift--the gift of arranging ideas. Noone was better acquainted with this truth than Sir Patrick. Hewas purposely puzzling Geoffrey at starting, under the firmconviction that his client had something to conceal from him. Theone process that could be depended on for extracting the truth,under those circumstances, was the process of interrogation. IfGeoffrey was submitted to it, at the outset, his cunning mighttake the alarm. Sir Patrick's object was to make the man himselfinvite interrogation. Geoffrey invited it forthwith, byattempting to state the circumstances, and by involving them inthe usual confusion. Sir Patrick waited until he had thoroughlylost the thread of his narrative--and then played for the winningtrick.

"Would it be easier to you if I asked a few questions?" heinquired, innocently.

"Much easier."

"I am quite at your service. Suppose we clear the ground to beginwith? Are you at liberty to mention names?"

"No."

"Places?"

"No."

"Dates?"

"Do you want me to be particular?"

"Be as particular as you can."

"Will it do, if I say the present year?"

"Yes. Were your friend and the lady--at some time in the presentyear--traveling together in Scotland?"

"No."

"Living together in Scotland?"

"No."

"What _were_ they doing together in Scotland?"

"Well--they were meeting each other at an inn."

"Oh? They were meeting each other at an inn. Which was first atthe rendezvous?"

"The woman was first. Stop a bit! We are getting to it now." Heproduced from his pocket the written memorandum of Arnold'sproceedings at Craig Fernie, which he had taken down fromArnold's own lips. "I've got a bit of note here," he went on."Perhaps you'd like to have a look at it?"

Sir Patrick took the note--read it rapidly through tohimself--then re-read it, sentence by sentence, to Geoffrey;using it as a text to speak from, in making further inquiries.

" 'He asked for her by the name of his wife, at the door,' " readSir Patrick. "Meaning, I presume, the door of the inn? Had thelady previously given herself out as a married woman to thepeople of the inn?"

"Yes."

"How long had she been at the inn before the gentleman joinedher?"

"Only an hour or so."

"Did she give a name?"

"I can't be quite sure--I should say not."

"Did the gentleman give a name?"

"No. I'm certain _he_ didn't."

Sir Patrick returned to the memorandum.

" 'He said at dinner, before the landlady and the waiter, I takethese rooms for my wife. He made _her_ say he was her husband, atthe same time.' Was that done jocosely, Mr. Delamayn--either bythe lady or the gentleman?"

"No. It was done in downright earnest."

"You mean it was done to look like earnest, and so to deceive thelandlady and the waiter?"

"Yes."

Sir Patrick returned to the memorandum.

" 'After that, he stopped all night.' Stopped in the rooms he hadtaken for himself and his wife?"

"Yes."

"And what happened the next day?"

"He went away. Wait a bit! Said he had business for an excuse."

"That is to say, he kept up the deception with the people of theinn? and left the lady behind him, in the character of his wife?"

"That's it."

"Did he go back to the inn?"

"No."

"How long did the lady stay there, after he had gone?"

"She staid--well, she staid a few days."

"And your friend has not seen her since?"

"No."

"Are your friend and the lady English or Scotch?"

"Both English."

"At the time when they met at the inn, had they either of themarrived in Scotland, from the place in which they were previouslyliving, within a period of less than twenty-one days?"

Geoffrey hesitated. There could be no difficulty in answering forAnne. Lady Lundie and her domestic circle had occupied Windygatesfor a much longer period than three weeks before the date of thelawn-party. The question, as it affected Arnold, was the onlyquestion that required reflection. After searching his memory fordetails of the conversation which had taken place between them,when he and Arnold had met at the lawn-party, Geoffrey recalled acertain reference on the part of his friend to a performance atthe Edinburgh theatre, which at once decided the question oftime. Arnold had been necessarily detained in Edinburgh, beforehis arrival at Windygates, by legal business connected with hisinheritance; and he, like Anne, had certainly been in Scotland,before they met at Craig Fernie, for a longer period than aperiod of three weeks He accordingly informed Sir Patrick thatthe lady and gentleman had been in Scotland for more thantwenty-one days--and then added a question on his own behalf:"Don't let me hurry you, Sir--but, shall you soon have done?"

"I shall have done, after two more questions," answered SirPatrick. "Am I to understand that the lady claims, on thestrength of the circumstances which you have mentioned to me, tobe your friend's wife?"

Geoffrey made an affirmative reply. The readiest means ofobtaining Sir Patrick's opinion was, in this case, to answer,Yes. In other words, to represent Anne (in the character of "thelady") as claiming to be married to Arnold (in the character of"his friend").

Having made this concession to circumstances, he was, at the sametime, quite cunning enough to see that it was of vital importanceto the purpose which he had in view, to confine himself strictlyto this one perversion of the truth. There could be plainly nodepending on the lawyer's opinion, unless that opinion was givenon the facts exactly a s they had occurred at the inn. To thefacts he had, thus far, carefully adhered; and to the facts (withthe one inevitable departure from them which had been just forcedon him) he determined to adhere to the end.

"Did no letters pass between the lady and gentleman?" pursued SirPatrick.

"None that I know of," answered Geoffrey, steadily returning tothe truth.

"I have done, Mr. Delamayn."

"Well? and what's your opinion?"

"Before I give my opinion I am bound to preface it by a personalstatement which you are not to take, if you please, as astatement of the law. You ask me to decide--on the facts withwhich you have supplied me--whether your friend is, according tothe law of Scotland, married or not?"

Geoffrey nodded. "That's it!" he said, eagerly.

"My experience, Mr. Delamayn, is that any single man, inScotland, may marry any single woman, at any time, and under anycircumstances. In short, after thirty years' practice as alawyer, I don't know what is _not_ a marriage in Scotland."

"In plain English," said Geoffrey, "you mean she's his wife?"

In spite of his cunning; in spite of his self-command, his eyesbrightened as he said those words. And the tone in which hespoke--though too carefully guarded to be a tone of triumph--was,to a fine ear, unmistakably a tone of relief.

Neither the look nor the tone was lost on Sir Patrick.

His first suspicion, when he sat down to the conference, had beenthe obvious suspicion that, in speaking of "his friend," Geoffreywas speaking of himself. But, like all lawyers, he habituallydistrusted first impressions, his own included. His object, thusfar, had been to solve the problem of Geoffrey's true positionand Geoffrey's real motive. He had set the snare accordingly, andhad caught his bird.

It was now plain to his mind--first, that this man who wasconsulting him, was, in all probability, really speaking of thecase of another person: secondly, that he had an interest (ofwhat nature it was impossible yet to say) in satisfying his ownmind that "his friend" was, by the law of Scotland, indisputablya married man. Having penetrated to that extent the secret whichGeoffrey was concealing from him, he abandoned the hope of makingany further advance at that present sitting. The next question toclear up in the investigation, was the question of who theanonymous "lady" might be. And the next discovery to make was,whether "the lady" could, or could not, be identified with AnneSilvester. Pending the inevitable delay in reaching that result,the straight course was (in Sir Patrick's present state ofuncertainty) the only course to follow in laying down the law. Heat once took the question of the marriage in hand--with noconcealment whatever, as to the legal bearings of it, from theclient who was consulting him.

"Don't rush to conclusions, Mr. Delamayn," he said. "I have onlytold you what my general experience is thus far. My professionalopinion on the special case of your friend has not been givenyet."

Geoffrey's face clouded again. Sir Patrick carefully noted thenew change in it.

"The law of Scotland," he went on, "so far as it relates toIrregular Marriages, is an outrage on common decency andcommon-sense. If you think my language in thus describing it toostrong--I can refer you to the language of a judicial authority.Lord Deas delivered a recent judgment of marriage in Scotland,from the bench, in these words: 'Consent makes marriage. No formor ceremony, civil or religious; no notice before, or publicationafter; no cohabitation, no writing, no witnesses even, areessential to the constitution of this, the most importantcontract which two persons can enter into.'--There is a Scotchjudge's own statement of the law that he administers! Observe, atthe same time, if you please, that we make full legal provisionin Scotland for contracts affecting the sale of houses and lands,horses and dogs. The only contract which we leave withoutsafeguards or precautions of any sort is the contract that unitesa man and a woman for life. As for the authority of parents, andthe innocence of children, our law recognizes no claim on iteither in the one case or in the other. A girl of twelve and aboy of fourteen have nothing to do but to cross the Border, andto be married--without the interposition of the slightest delayor restraint, and without the slightest attempt to inform theirparents on the part of the Scotch law. As to the marriages of menand women, even the mere interchange of consent which, as youhave just heard, makes them man and wife, is not required to bedirectly proved: it may be proved by inference. And, more eventhan that, whatever the law for its consistency may presume, menand women are, in point of fact, held to be married in Scotlandwhere consent has never been interchanged, and where the partiesdo not even know that they are legally held to be marriedpersons. Are you sufficiently confused about the law of IrregularMarriages in Scotland by this time, Mr. Delamayn? And have I saidenough to justify the strong language I used when I undertook todescribe it to you?"

"Who's that 'authority' you talked of just now?" inquiredGeoffrey. "Couldn't I ask _him?_"

"You might find him flatly contradicted, if you did ask him byanother authority equally learned and equally eminent," answeredSir Patrick. "I am not joking--I am only stating facts. Have youheard of the Queen's Commission?"

"No."

"Then listen to this. In March, 'sixty-five, the Queen appointeda Commission to inquire into the Marriage-Laws of the UnitedKingdom. The Report of that Commission is published in London;and is accessible to any body who chooses to pay the price of twoor three shillings for it. One of the results of the inquiry was,the discovery that high authorities were of entirely contraryopinions on one of the vital questions of Scottish marriage-law.And the Commissioners, in announcing that fact, add that thequestion of which opinion is right is still disputed, and hasnever been made the subject of legal decision. Authorities areevery where at variance throughout the Report. A haze of doubtand uncertainty hangs in Scotland over the most importantcontract of civilized life. If no other reason existed forreforming the Scotch marriage-law, there would be reason enoughafforded by that one fact. An uncertain marriage-law is anational calamity."

"You can tell me what you think yourself about my friend'scase--can't you?" said Geoffrey, still holding obstinately to theend that he had in view.

"Certainly. Now that I have given you due warning of the dangerof implicitly relying on any individual opinion, I may give myopinion with a clear conscience. I say that there has not been apositive marriage in this case. There has been evidence in favorof possibly establishing a marriage--nothing more."

The distinction here was far too fine to be appreciated byGeoffrey's mind. He frowned heavily, in bewilderment and disgust.

"Not married!" he exclaimed, "when they said they were man andwife, before witnesses?"

"That is a common popular error," said Sir Patrick. "As I havealready told you, witnesses are not legally necessary to make amarriage in Scotland. They are only valuable--as in this case--tohelp, at some future time, in proving a marriage that is indispute."

Geoffrey caught at the last words.

"The landlady and the waiter _might_ make it out to be amarriage, then?" he said.

"Yes. And, remember, if you choose to apply to one of myprofessional colleagues, he might possibly tell you they weremarried already. A state of the law which allows the interchangeof matrimonial consent to be proved by inference leaves a widedoor open to conjecture. Your friend refers to a certain lady, inso many words, as his wife. The lady refers to your friend, in somany words, as her husband. In the rooms which they have taken,as man and wife, they remain, as man and wife, till the nextmorning. Your friend goes away, without undeceiving any body. Thelady stays at the inn, for some days after, in the character ofhis wife. And all these circumstances take place in the presenceo f competent witnesses. Logically--if not legally--there isapparently an inference of the interchange of matrimonial consenthere. I stick to my own opinion, nevertheless. Evidence in proofof a marriage (I say)--nothing more."

While Sir Patrick had been speaking, Geoffrey had beenconsidering with himself. By dint of hard thinking he had foundhis way to a decisive question on his side.

"Look here!" he said, dropping his heavy hand down on the table."I want to bring you to book, Sir! Suppose my friend had anotherlady in his eye?"

"Yes?"

"As things are now--would you advise him to marry her?"

"As things are now--certainly not!"

Geoffrey got briskly on his legs, and closed the interview.

"That will do," he said, "for him and for me."

With those words he walked back, without ceremony, into the mainthoroughfare of the room.

"I don't know who your friend is," thought Sir Patrick, lookingafter him. "But if your interest in the question of his marriageis an honest and a harmless interest, I know no more of humannature than the babe unborn!"

Immediately on leaving Sir Patrick, Geoffrey was encountered byone of the servants in search of him.

"I beg your pardon, Sir," began the man. "The groom from theHonorable Mr. Delamayn's--"

"Yes? The fellow who brought me a note from my brother thismorning?"

"He's expected back, Sir--he's afraid he mustn't wait anylonger."

"Come here, and I'll give you the answer for him."

He led the way to the writing-table, and referred to Julius'sletter again. He ran his eye carelessly over it, until he reachedthe final lines: "Come to-morrow, and help us to receive Mrs.Glenarm." For a while he paused, with his eye fixed on thatsentence; and with the happiness of three people--of Anne, whohad loved him; of Arnold, who had served him; of Blanche,guiltless of injuring him--resting on the decision that guidedhis movements for the next day. After what had passed thatmorning between Arnold and Blanche, if he remained at LadyLundie's, he had no alternative but to perform his promise toAnne. If he returned to his brother's house, he had noalternative but to desert Anne, on the infamous pretext that shewas Arnold's wife.

He suddenly tossed the letter away from him on the table, andsnatched a sheet of note-paper out of the writing-case. "Heregoes for Mrs. Glenarm!" he said to himself; and wrote back to hisbrother, in one line: "Dear Julius, Expect me to-morrow. G. D."The impassible man-servant stood by while he wrote, looking athis magnificent breadth of chest, and thinking what a glorious"staying-power" was there for the last terrible mile of thecoming race.

"There you are!" he said, and handed his note to the man.

"All right, Geoffrey?" asked a friendly voice behind him.

He turned--and saw Arnold, anxious for news of the consultationwith Sir Patrick.

"Yes," he said. "All right."

------------ NOTE.--There are certain readers who feel adisposition to doubt Facts, when they meet with them in a work offiction. Persons of this way of thinking may be profitablyreferred to the book which first suggested to me the idea ofwriting the present Novel. The book is the Report of the RoyalCommissioners on The Laws of Marriage. Published by the Queen'sPrinters For her Majesty's Stationery Office. (London, 1868.)What Sir Patrick says professionally of Scotch Marriages in thischapter is taken from this high authority. What the lawyer (inthe Prologue) says professionally of Irish Marriages is alsoderived from the same source. It is needless to encumber thesepages with quotations. But as a means of satisfying my readersthat they may depend on me, I subjoin an extract from my list ofreferences to the Report of the Marriage Commission, which anypersons who may be so inclined can verify for themselves.

_Irish Marriages_ (In the Prologue).--See Report, pages XII.,XIII., XXIV.

_Irregular Marriages in Scotland._--Statement of the law by LordDeas. Report, page XVI.--Marriages of children of tender years.Examination of Mr. Muirhead by Lord Chelmsford (Question689).--Interchange of consent, established by inference.Examination of Mr. Muirhead by the Lord Justice Clerk (Question654)--Marriage where consent has never been interchanged.Observations of Lord Deas. Report, page XIX.--Contradiction ofopinions between authorities. Report, pages XIX., XX.--Legalprovision for the sale of horses and dogs. No legal provision forthe marriage of men and women. Mr. Seeton's Remarks. Report, pageXXX.--Conclusion of the Commissioners. In spite of the argumentsadvanced before them in favor of not interfering with IrregularMarriages in Scotland, the Commissioners declare their opinionthat "Such marriages ought not to continue." (Report, pageXXXIV.)

In reference to the arguments (alluded to above) in favor ofallowing the present disgraceful state of things to continue, Ifind them resting mainly on these grounds: That Scotland doesn'tlike being interfered with by England (!). That IrregularMarriages cost nothing (!!). That they are diminishing in number,and may therefore be trusted, in course of time, to exhaustthemselves (!!!). That they act, on certain occasions, in thecapacity of a moral trap to catch a profligate man (!!!!). Suchis the elevated point of view from which the Institution ofMarriage is regarded by some of the most pious and learned men inScotland. A legal enactment providing for the sale of your wife,when you have done with her, or of your husband; when you "reallycan't put up with him any longer," appears to be all that iswanting to render this North British estimate of the "Estate ofMatrimony" practically complete. It is only fair to add that, ofthe witnesses giving evidence--oral and written--before theCommissioners, fully one-half regard the Irregular Marriages ofScotland from the Christian and the civilized point of view, andentirely agree with the authoritative conclusion alreadycited--that such marriages ought to be abolished.

W. C.