He went to the Paddington church. It was only five o'clock in the
afternoon by the clock of that edifice. The church was closely shut, but
Mr. Sheldon found the clerk, who, in consideration of a handsome
donation, took him to the vestry, and there showed him the register of
marriages--the last entry therein.
Yes, there was Charlotte Halliday's signature, a little uncertain and
tremulous.
"I suppose you are one of the young lady's relations, sir," said the
clerk. "It was rather a strange affair; but the young lady's ma was with
her; and the young lady was over age, so, you see, there's nothing to be
said against it."
Mr. Sheldon had nothing to say against the marriage. If any false
statement of his, however base or cruel, could have invalidated the
ceremonial, he would have spared no pains to devise such a falsehood. If
he had been a citizen of the Southern States, he might have suborned
witnesses to prove that there was black blood in the veins of Valentine
Hawkehurst. If he had not been opposed to so strong an opponent as Dr.
Jedd, he might have tried to get a commission of lunacy to declare
Charlotte Halliday a madwoman, and thus invalidate her marriage. As it
was, he knew that he could do nothing. He had failed. All was said in
those three words.
He wasted no time at the church, but hurried on to the City, where he was
just in time to catch Mr.
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