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222 THE ADVENTURES OF PHILIP
knew there were papers, or writings, or anything but a ring and a
clergyman, when you married me. But I've heard tell that people
in Scotland don't want a clergyman at all ; and if they call themselves
man and wife, they are man and wife. Now, sir, Mr. and
Mrs. Brandon certainly did travel together in Scotland—witness
that man whom you were going to throw into the lake for being
rude to your wife—and ... La ! don't fly out so ! It wasn't me,
a poor girl of sixteen, who did wrong. It was you, a man of the
world, who was years and years older."
When Brandon carried off his poor little victim and wife, there
had been a journey to Scotland, where Lord Cinqbars, then alive,
had sporting quarters. His Lordship's chaplain, Mr. Hunt, had
been of the party, which fate very soon afterwards separated.
Death seized on Cinqbars at Naples. Debt caused Firmin—
Brandon, as he called himself then—to fly the country. The
chaplain wandered from gaol to gaol. And as for poor little
Caroline Brandon, I suppose the husband who had married her
under a false name thought that to escape her, leave her, and disown
her altogether was an easier and less dangerous plan than to
continue relations with her. So one day, four months after their
marriage, the young couple being then at Dover, Caroline's husband
happened to go out for a walk. But he sent away a portmanteau
by the back-door when he went out for the walk, and as Caroline
was waiting for her little dinner some hours after, the porter who
carried the luggage came with a little note from her dearest G. B.;
and it was full of little fond expressions of regard and affection, such
as gentlemen put into little notes; but dearest G. B. said the bailiffs
were upon him, and one of them had arrived that morning, and he
must fly : and he took half the money he had, and left half for his
little Carry. And he would be back soon, and arrange matters ;
or tell her where to write and follow him. And she was to take
care of her little health, and to write a great deal to her Georgy.
And she did not know how to write very well then ; but she did
her best, and improved a great deal ; for, indeed, she wrote a great
deal, poor thing ! Sheets and sheets of paper she blotted with ink
and tears. And then the money was spent ; and the next money ;
and no more came, and no more letters. And she was alone at sea,
sinking, sinking, when it pleased Heaven to send that friend who
rescued her. It is such a sad, sad little story, that in fact I don't
like dwelling on it ; not caring to look upon poor innocent trusting
creatures in pain.
. . . Well, then, when Caroline exclaimed, " La ! don't fly out
so, Dr. Firmin!" I suppose the Doctor had been crying out, and
swearing fiercely, at the recollections of his friend Mr. Brandon, and