Kate fled away gladly enough, her mind rent in twain betwixt remorse at her own disobedience and deceit, triumph in having stopped Sir Robert’s suit by so immovable an obstacle, and relief that the truth was out at last, even though her own dire disgrace was the result.  The secret had preyed terribly on her mind of late, and had been undermining her health and spirits.  Terrible as the anger of her parents might be, anything to her open nature seemed better than concealment; and she dashed up to her own room in a whirl of conflicting emotions, sinking down upon the floor when she reached it to try to get into order her chaotic thoughts.

Meantime husband and wife, left alone to their astonishment, stood gazing at each other in blank amaze.

“Husband,” said Lady Frances at last, “surely such wedlock is not lawful?”

“I cannot tell,” he answered gloomily; “belike it is not.  Yet a troth plight made in so solemn a fashion, and before so many witnesses, is no light thing; and the child may not be wedded to another whilst the smallest shadow of doubt remains.  Doubtless Culverhouse foresaw this, the bold knave, and persuaded the child into it.  Well it has served his purpose.  Sir Robert must be content with Cecilia.  But the artfulness of the little jade!  I never thought Kate would so deceive us—­”

“It is that that breaks my heart!” cried the mother—­“that, and the thought that she should be willing to go before some Popish priest and take her vows to him.  Oh, it cannot be binding on the child—­it cannot be binding!  And Sir Robert is stanch in the Reformed faith; he is just the husband that wild girl needs.  Husband, can nothing be done?”

Sir Richard looked very grave.

“That would be hard to tell without strict inquiries.  I doubt me if we could learn all before next May Day, when we might get hold of the man himself and find out who and what he is.  Such wedlock as his cannot be without flaw, and might be made invalid by law; but, wife, there is no getting over this, that the child took her vows in the name of God, and I dare not act as though such vows were unspoken.  Her youth and ignorance may plead in part for her.  She scarce knew the solemnity of the step she was taking.  Culverhouse won upon her and over persuaded her, I do not doubt.  I do not seek to excuse her.  I am grievously displeased and disappointed.  But I cannot and I will not give her to Sir Robert; Cecilia must be his wife.”

“Then Kate must be sent away,” said Lady Frances, gravely and severely; “I cannot and will not have her here, mixing as before with her sisters with this cloud hanging upon her, with this secret still shadowing her life.  She has proved unworthy of our confidence.  I am more pained and displeased than I can say.  She must go.  She must not be able to tell Cecilia that she might have been Lady Fortescue but for her marriage with Culverhouse.  She is no longer to be trusted.  She must go forth from home as a punishment for her wrongdoing.  I feel that I cannot bear to see her about the house, knowing how she has deceived us.  She shall go forth this very day.”