His tone was hardly serious. Nevertheless, during the time that Helbeck
and Augustina were pacing the sands together, Fountain went through a
good deal of uneasiness. One never knew how or where this damned poison
in the blood might break out again. That young fanatic, a Jesuit already
by the look of him, would of course try all their inherited Mumbo Jumbo
upon her; and what woman is at bottom anything more than the prey of the
last speaker?

When, however, it was all over, and he was allowed to see his Augustina
in the evening, he found her helpless with crying indeed, but as
obstinate as only the meek of the earth can be. She had broken wholly
with her brother and with Bannisdale; and Fountain gathered that, after
all Helbeck's arguments and entreaties, there had flashed a moment of
storm between them, when the fierce "Helbeck temper," traditional through
many generations, had broken down the self-control of the ascetic, and
Augustina must needs have trembled. However, there she was, frightened
and miserable, but still determined. And her terror was much more
concerned with the possibility of any return to live with Alan and his
all-exacting creed than anything else. Fountain caught himself wondering
whether indeed she had imagination enough to lay much hold on those
spiritual terrors with which she had no doubt been threatened. In this,
however, he misjudged her, as will be seen.

Meanwhile he sent for an elderly Evangelical cousin of his wife's, who
was accustomed to take a friendly interest in his child and himself. She,
in Protestant jubilation over this brand snatched from the burning, came
in haste, very nearly departing, indeed, in similar haste as soon as the
unholy project of the secular marriage was mooted. However, under much
persuasion she remained, lamenting; Augustina sent to Bannisdale for her
few possessions, and the scanty ceremony was soon over.