The spectators of the terrible scene turned with one accord toward the sacrificed woman.  The look which Geoffrey had cast on her—­the words which Geoffrey had spoken to her—­were present to all their minds.  She stood, waiting by Sir Patrick’s side—­her soft gray eyes resting sadly and tenderly on Blanche’s face.  To see that matchless courage and resignation was to doubt the reality of what had happened.  They were forced to look back at the man to possess their minds with the truth.

The triumph of law and morality over him was complete.  He never uttered a word.  His furious temper was perfectly and fearfully calm.  With the promise of merciless vengeance written in the Devil s writing on his Devil-possessed face, he kept his eyes fixed on the hated woman whom he had ruined—­on the hated woman who was fastened to him as his wife.

His lawyer went over to the table at which Sir Patrick sat.  Sir Patrick handed him the sheet of note-paper.

He read the two letters contained in it with absorbed and deliberate attention.  The moments that passed before he lifted his head from his reading seemed like hours.  “Can you prove the handwritings?” he asked.  “And prove the residence?”

Sir Patrick took up a second morsel of paper lying ready under his hand.

“There are the names of persons who can prove the writing, and prove the residence,” he replied.  “One of your two witnesses below stairs (otherwise useless) can speak to the hour at which Mr. Brinkworth arrived at the inn, and so can prove that the lady for whom he asked was, at that moment, Mrs. Geoffrey Delamayn.  The indorsement on the back of the note-paper, also referring to the question of time, is in the handwriting of the same witness—­to whom I refer you, when it suits your convenience to question him.”

“I will verify the references, Sir Patrick, as matter of form.  In the mean time, not to interpose needless and vexatious delay, I am bound to say that I can not resist the evidence of the marriage.”

Having replied in those terms he addressed himself, with marked respect and sympathy, to Anne.

“On the faith of the written promise of marriage exchanged between you in Scotland,” he said, “you claim Mr. Geoffrey Delamayn as your husband?”

She steadily repented the words after him.

“I claim Mr. Geoffrey Delamayn as my husband.”

Mr. Moy appealed to his client.  Geoffrey broke silence at last.

“Is it settled?” he asked.

“To all practical purposes, it is settled.”

He went on, still looking at nobody but Anne.

“Has the law of Scotland made her my wife?”

“The law of Scotland has made her your wife.”

He asked a third and last question.

“Does the law tell her to go where her husband goes?”

“Yes.”

He laughed softly to himself, and beckoned to her to cross the room to the place at which he was standing.