n addition to the other
unjustifiable motives that influenced me, I thought there would be a
satisfaction in believing that I had been chosen for myself, rather
than for my wealth. Indeed, I had got to be distrustful and
ungenerous, and then I disliked the confession of the weakness that
had induced me to change my name. The simple, I might almost say,
loose laws of this country, on the subject of marriage, removed all
necessity for explanations, there being no bans nor license
necessary, and the Christian name only being used in the ceremony. We
were married, therefore, but I was not so unmindful of the rights of
others, as to neglect to procure a certificate, under a promise of
secrecy, in my own name. By going to the place where the ceremony was
performed, you will also find the marriage of John Effingham and
Mildred Warrender duly registered in the books of the church to which
the officiating clergyman belonged. So far, I did what justice
required, though, with a motiveless infatuation for which I can now
hardly account, which _cannot_ be accounted for, except by
ascribing it to the inconsistent cruelty of passion, I concealed my
real name from her with whom there should have been no concealment. I
fancied, I tried to fancy I was no impostor, as I was of the family I
represented myself to be, by the mother's side; and. I wished to
believe that my peace would easily be made when I avowed myself to be
the man I really was. I had found Miss Warrender and her sister
living with a well-intentioned but weak aunt, and with no male
relative to make those inquiries which would so naturally have
suggested themselves to persons of ordinary worldly prudence. It is
true, I had become known to them under favourable circumstances, and
they had good reason to believe me an Assheton from some accidental
evidence that I possessed, which unanswerably proved my affinity to
that family, without, betraying my true name. But there is so little
distrust in this country, that, by keeping at a distance from the
places in which I was personally known, a life might have passed
without exposure."

"This was all wrong, dear cousin Jack," said Eve, taking his hand and
affectionately kissing it, while her face kindled with a sense of her
sex's rights, "and I should be unfaithful to my womanhood were I to
say otherwise. You had entered into the most solemn of all human
contracts, and evil is the omen when such an engagement is veiled by
any untru