“When did this happen?” And they could not guess how anxiously he waited for a reply.

Now Dutton had come there expressly to bring Bluebell into Lord Bromley’s presence, having resolved to be beforehand with Kate, and make immediate confession.  Therefore he was provided with their marriage certificate, which he now produced, and silently presented to his uncle.

The date was satisfactory, and Lord Bromley was relieved from the most harrowing anxiety.  Yet his brow did not relax as he turned gravely to his nephew.  “What was your motive, Harry, in concealing this marriage?”

Dutton was silent.

“You may well be unwilling to express it.  It was because you feared to lose the inheritance I have foolishly brought you up to expect.”

Harry looked up frankly, though writhing under his words.

“I cannot wholly deny it, uncle, and if you now change your intentions towards me, it is only what I expect.  Bluebell and I were married hastily at Liverpool, she is my best excuse for that.  Afterwards, when I came to ‘The Towers,’ I meant to have told you, but—­don’t you recollect?—­you positively refused to hear what I had to say.  Of course I ought to have persisted.”

“And did Theodora also see the expediency of concealing her marriage till my death?”

“No, indeed,” cried Harry, warmly.  “She would have risked everything to have it acknowledged.  It puts my conduct in an awfully cold-blooded light, but I hope you don’t think me utterly ungrateful.”

“As to that, the less said the better,” returned Lord Bromley, coolly.

Dutton turned away abashed and deeply wounded, for he really was attached to the relative who had been his best friend and benefactor from infancy to manhood.  Lord Bromley slowly left the room, and, sending for his niece, endeavoured to explain to her the astounding facts that Bluebell was the daughter of his disinherited son, and had been married to Dutton for nearly two years.

There was scarcely room in Mrs. Barrington’s mind to grasp this new aspect of affairs, it being already taken up with Kate’s shocking discovery of the heir, flirting in a secluded summer-house with the treacherous governess.  Very earnestly, therefore, she tried to convince her uncle that he must be deceived, and that Bluebell was an impostor and an adventuress.

“There’s not a shade of doubt about her identity,” contested Lord Bromley “I have known for some time whom she was.  Indeed, Lydia, you were my first informant when you told me where you had taken her from.  Parker had reported that Theodore’s daughter was with some people of the name of Markham, and immediately found out accidentally that she was no longer there and here is further proof”—­and he placed before her the portrait that he had carried away.  It was difficult to [unreadable].  Convinced against her will, and deprived of the power of giving Bluebell immediate warning, Mrs. Barrington [unreadable] fall back upon her own room, pull down the blinds and take refuge in petite sante, till prepared to face her emminent dependent in so new and unwelcome a position.