"Only this," she answered, "--that Letty is now lying in my room,
whether dead or alive I am in doubt. She must have spent the
night in the open air--and that without cloak or bonnet."
"Good God!" cried Godfrey. "And you could leave her like that!"
"She is attended to," replied Mary, with dignity. "There are
worse evils to be warded than death, else I should not be here;
there are hard judgments and evil tongues.--Will you come and see
her, Mr. Wardour?"
"No," answered Godfrey, gruffly.
"Shall I send a note to Mrs. Wardour, then?"
"I will tell her myself."
"What would you have me do about her?"
"I have no concern in the matter, but I suppose you had better
send for a doctor. Talk to that fellow there," he added, pointing
with his whip toward the cottage, and again putting his foot in
the stirrup. "Tell him he has brought her to disgrace--"
"I don't believe it," interrupted Mary, her face flushing with
indignant shame. But Godfrey went on without heeding her:
"And get him to marry her off-hand, if you can--for, by God! he
_shall_ marry her, or I will kill him."
He spoke looking round at her over his shoulder, a scowl on his
face, his foot in the stirrup, one hand twisted in the mane of
his horse, and the other with the whip stretched out as if
threatening the universe. Mary stood white but calm, and made no
answer. He swung himself into the saddle, and rode away.
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