He perceived that the priest knew it all.  But how could he wonder at this when that which ought to have been her secret and his had become known even to Lady Mary Quin?  And he understood well what the priest meant when he spoke of that which was due to Kate O’Hara before God and man; and he could perceive, or thought that he perceived, that the priest did not doubt of the coming marriage, now that he, the victim, was again back in the west of Ireland.  And was he not the victim of a scheme?  Had he not been allured on to make promises to the girl which he would not have made had the truth been told him as to her father?  He would not even in his thoughts accuse Kate,—­his Kate,—­of being a participator in these schemes.  But Mrs. O’Hara and the priest had certainly intrigued against him.  He must remember that.  In the terrible task which he was now compelled to begin he must build his defence chiefly upon that.  Yes; he must begin his work, now, upon the instant.  With all his golden prospects,—­with all his golden honours already in his possession,—­he could wish himself dead rather than begin it.  But he could not die and have done it.  “Father.  Marty,” he said, “I cannot make Miss O’Hara Countess of Scroope.”

“Not make her Countess of Scroope!  What will you make her then?”

“As to that, I am here to discuss it with you.”

“What is it you main, sir?  Afther you have had your will of her, and polluted her sweet innocence, you will not make her your wife!  You cannot look me in the face, Mr. Neville, and tell me that.”

There the priest was right.  The young Earl could not look him in the face as he stammered out his explanation and proposal.  The burly, strong old man stood perfectly still and silent as he, with hesitating and ill-arranged words, tried to gloze over and make endurable his past conduct and intentions as to the future.  He still held some confused idea as to a form of marriage which should for all his life bind him to the woman, but which should give her no claim to the title, and her child no claim either to the title or the property.  “You should have told me of this Captain O’Hara,” he said, as with many half-formed sentences he completed his suggestions.

“And it’s on me you are throwing the blame?”

“You should have told me, Father Marty.”

“By the great God above me, I did not believe that a man could be such a villain!  As I look for glory I did not think it possible!  I should have tould you!  Neither did I nor did Mistress O’Hara know or believe that the man was alive.  And what has the man to do with it?  Is she vile because he has been guilty?  Is she other than you knew her to be when you first took her to your bosom, because of his sin?”

“It does make a difference, Mr. Marty.”

“Afther what you have done it can make no difference.  When you swore to her that she should be your wife, and conquered her by so swearing, was there any clause in your contract that you were not to be bound if you found aught displaising to you in her parentage?”