have been so altered in favour of the Roman Catholics, and against the Protestants, that a priest can do almost just what he likes.  I do not think that he would scruple for an instant to marry them if he thought it likely that his prey would escape from him.  My own opinion is that there has been no marriage as yet, though I know that others think that there has been.”  The expression of this opinion from “others” which had reached Lady Mary’s ears consisted of an assurance from her own Protestant lady’s maid that that wicked, guzzling old Father Marty would marry the young couple as soon as look at them, and very likely had done so already.  “I cannot say,” continued Lady Mary, “that I actually know anything against the character of Miss O’Hara.  Of the mother we have very strange stories here.  They live in a little cottage with one maid-servant, almost upon the cliffs, and nobody knows anything about them except the priest.  If he should be seduced into a marriage, nothing could be more unfortunate.”  Lady Mary probably intended to insinuate that were young Neville prudently to get out of the adventure, simply leaving the girl behind him blasted, ruined, and destroyed, the matter no doubt would be bad; but in that case the great misfortune would have been avoided.  She could not quite say this in plain words; but she felt, no doubt, that Lady Scroope would understand her.  Then Lady Mary went on to assure her friend that though she and her father and sisters very greatly regretted that Mr. Neville had not again given them the pleasure of seeing him at Castle Quin, no feeling of injury on that score had induced her to write so strongly as she had done.  She had been prompted to do so simply by her desire to prevent a most ruinous alliance.

Lady Scroope acknowledged entirely the truth of these last words.  Such an alliance would be most ruinous!  But what could she do?  Were she to write to Fred and tell him all that she heard,—­throwing to the winds Lady Mary’s stupid injunctions respecting secrecy, as she would not have scrupled to do could she have thus obtained her object,—­might it not be quite possible that she would precipitate the calamity which she desired so eagerly to avoid?  Neither had she nor had her husband any power over the young man, except such as arose from his own good feeling.  The Earl could not disinherit him;—­could not put a single acre beyond his reach.  Let him marry whom he might he must be Earl Scroope of Scroope, and the woman so married must be the Countess of Scroope.  There was already a Lady Neville about the world whose existence was a torture to them; and if this young man chose also to marry a creature utterly beneath him and to degrade the family, no effort on their part could prevent him.  But if, as seemed probable, he were yet free, and if he could be got to come again among them, it might be that he still had left some feelings on which they might work.  No doubt there was the Neville obstinacy about him; but he had seemed to both of them to acknowledge the sanctity of his family, and to appreciate in some degree the duty which he owed to it.