I saw, at a glance, that my true policy was to feign a reluctant consent to this proposition, and to determine later what recourse to take, as if indeed any remained to me in that den of serpents.  I would consider, as soon as Mrs. Raymond was gone, what measures to pursue in order to elude the vigilance of McDermot, the detective; and then, if all proved vain, I could but perish!  For I would have walked cheerfully over the burning ploughshares of old, lived again through the hideous nightmare of the burning ship and raft, nay, clasped hands with the spectre of La Vigne himself, had it offered to lead me to purgatory, rather than have married the knave, the liar, the half-breed Gregory!

My resolution was soon made.

“You will send me a suitable dress, I suppose,” I said, calmly, “you know I am a pauper here.”

“Yes, fortunately I have two almost alike.  Which shall it be, a chally or barege?”

“It matters little, the color is all I care for.  Let it be white; I have a superstition about being married in colors.”

“So should I have, were this the first time, but, being a widow, I shall wear a lavender-satin, trimmed with blond, made up for a very different occasion.”

“Yes, that will be quite suitable.  Well, the long agony is over at last, and I am glad of it,” and I drew a deep, free breath.

“You will have to sign the papers before you come down-stairs.  Mr. Bainrothe told me to say this to you, and to ask you to have them ready; they will be witnessed below with the marriage, and at nine, precisely, expect me to appear with your gown, and make your toilet.”

“Will not Bridget Maloney do as well?” I asked, desperately.  She, at least, I thought, may be compassionate.

“It is strange you should know of her at all, or she of you.  It is that girl, then, who has given us all this trouble,” going to the bed, “when I did not suppose she knew of her existence.  Explain this, Clayton, if you can.”

“I suppose Ernie, who is fond of her, has mentioned her name to Miss Monfort; she thinks his mother is sick up-stairs, but knows no more, I am certain; besides, it’s Dr. Englehart’s establishment—­such things are to be expected, and surprise no one of the attendants.  Bridget is kept busy among them all.”  The farce was to be kept up, it seemed, to the end.

Old Dinah was evidently quaking in her shoes, and began to see her error, as she glanced reproachfully at me, but no further revelation seemed to be expected.  It was, indeed, to divert, partly, immediate suspicion from one I still hoped to make my tool, that I mentioned the Irish girl at all, or craved her presence, but I soon found how futile in one instance was this trust.  No sooner had Mrs. Raymond turned to depart, than Dinah followed her, protesting against being locked up the whole evening with the invalid, and begging leave to go out for an hour or two on business of her own, which she declared important.