Mimi should have some protector
whom all the world would recognise. The only form recognised by
convention is marriage!" Sir Nathaniel smiled in a fatherly way. "To marry, a husband is required. And that husband should be you." "Yes, yes." "And the marriage should be immediate and secret--or, at least, not
spoken of outside ourselves. Would the young lady be agreeable to that
proceeding?" "I do not know, sir!" "Then how are we to proceed?" "I suppose that we--or one of us--must ask her." "Is this a sudden idea, Adam, a sudden resolution?" "A sudden resolution, sir, but not a sudden idea. If she agrees, all is
well and good. The sequence is obvious." "And it is to be kept a secret amongst ourselves?" "I want no secret, sir, except for Mimi's good. For myself, I should
like to shout it from the house-tops! But we must be discreet; untimely
knowledge to our enemy might work incalculable harm." "And how would you suggest, Adam, that we could combine the momentous
question with secrecy?" Adam grew red and moved uneasily. "Someone must ask her--as soon as possible!" "And that someone?" "I thought that you, sir, would be so good!" "God bless my soul! This is a new kind of duty to take on--at my time of
life. Adam, I hope you know that you can count on me to help in any way
I can!" "I have already counted on you, sir, when I ventured to make such a
suggestion. I can only ask," he added, "that you will be more than ever
kind to me--to us--and look on the painful duty as a voluntary act of
grace, prompted by kindness and affection." "Painful duty!" "Yes," said Adam boldly. "Painful to you, though to me it would be all
joyful." "It is a strange job for an early morning! Well, we all live and learn. I suppose the sooner I go the better. You had better write a line for me
to take with me. For, you see, this is to be a somewhat unusual
transaction, and it may be embarrassing to the lady, even to myself. So
we ought to have some sort of warrant, something to show that we have
been mindful of her feelings. It will not do to take acquiescence for
granted--although we act for her good." "Sir Nathaniel, you are a true friend; I am sure that both Mimi and I
shall be grateful to you for all our lives--however long they may be!" So the two talked it over and agreed as to points to be borne in mind by
the ambassador. It was striking ten when Sir Nathaniel left the house,
Adam seeing him quietly off. As the young man followed him with wistful eyes--almost jealous of the
privilege which his kind deed was about to bring him--he felt that his
own heart was in his friend's breast. The memory of that morning was like a dream to all those concerned in it. Sir Nathaniel had a confused recollection of detail and sequence, though
the main facts stood out in his memory boldly and clearly. Adam Salton's
recollection was of an illimitable wait, filled with anxiety, hope, and
chagrin, all dominated by a sense of the slow passage of time and
accompanied by vague fears. Mimi could not for a long time think at all,
or recollect anything, except that Adam loved her and was saving her from
a terrible danger. When she had time to think, later on, she wondered
when she had any ignorance of the fact that Adam loved her, and that she
loved him with all her heart. Everything, every recollection however
small, every feeling, seemed to fit into those elemental facts as though
they had all been moulded together. The main and crowning recollection
was her saying goodbye to Sir Nathaniel, and entrusting to him loving
messages, straight from her heart, to Adam Salton, and of his bearing
when--with an impulse which she could not check--she put her lips to his
and kissed him. Later, when she was alone and had time to think, it was
a passing grief to her that she would have to be silent, for a time, to
Lilla on the happy events of that strange mission. She had, of course, agreed to keep all secret until Adam should give her
leave to speak. The advice and assistance of Sir Nathaniel was a great help to Adam in
carrying out his idea of marrying Mimi Watford without publicity. He
went with him to London, and, with his influence, the young man obtained
the license of the Archbishop of Canterbury for a private marriage. Sir
Nathaniel then persuaded old Mr. Salton to allow his nephew to spend a
few weeks with him at Doom Tower, and it was here that Mimi became Adam's
wife. But that was only the first step in their plans; before going
further, however, Adam took his bride off to the Isle of Man. He wished
to place a stretch of sea between Mimi and the White Worm, while things
matured. On their return, Sir Nathaniel met them and drove them at once
to Doom, taking care to avoid any one that he knew on the journey. Sir Nathaniel had taken care to have the doors and windows shut and
locked--all but the door used for their entry. The shutters were up and
the blinds down. Moreover, heavy curtains were drawn across the windows. When Adam commented on this, Sir Nathaniel said in a whisper:

"Wait till we are alone, and I'll tell you why this is done; in the
meantime not a word or a sign. You will approve when we have had a talk
together." They said no more on the subject till after dinner, when they were
ensconced in Sir Nathaniel's study, which was on the top storey. Doom
Tower was a lofty structure, situated on an eminence high up in the Peak. The top commanded a wide prospect, ranging from the hills above the
Ribble to the near side of the Brow, which marked the northern bound of
ancient Mercia. It was of the early Norman period, less than a century
younger than Castra Regis. The windows of the study were barred and
locked, and heavy dark curtains closed them in. When this was done not a
gleam of light from the tower could be seen from outside. When they were alone, Sir Nathaniel explained that he had taken his old
friend, Mr. Salton, into full confidence, and that in future all would
work together. "It is important for you to be extremely careful. In spite of the fact
that our marriage was kept secret, as also your temporary absence, both
are known." "How? To whom?" "How, I know not; but I am beginning to have an idea." "To her?" asked Adam, in momentary consternation. Sir Nathaniel shivered perceptibly. "The White Worm--yes!" Adam noticed that from now on, his friend never spoke of Lady Arabella
otherwise, except when he wished to divert the suspicion of others. Sir Nathaniel switched off the electric light, and when the room was
pitch dark, he came to Adam, took him by the hand, and led him to a seat
set in the southern window. Then he softly drew back a piece of the
curtain and motioned his companion to look out. Adam did so, and immediately shrank back as though his eyes had opened on
pressing danger. His companion set his mind at rest by saying in a low
voice:

"It is all right; you may speak, but speak low. There is no danger
here--at present!" Adam leaned forward, taking care, however, not to press his face against
the glass.