I pass over the masquerade of your marriage--it was a boy's trick, which could hardly have availed you much, even if successful; for what sort of a wife would you have acquired, had this same Clara Mowbray proved willing to have accepted the change which you had put upon her, and transferred herself, without repugnance, from one bridegroom to another ?--Poor as I am, I know that neither Nettlewood nor Oakendale should have bribed me to marry such a -- -- I cannot decorously fill up the blank.
"Neither, my dear Etherington, can I forgive you the trick you put on the clergyman, in whose eyes you destroyed the poor girl's character to induce him to consent to perform the ceremony, and have thereby perhaps fixed an indelible stain on her for life--this was not a fair _ruse de guerre_ .-- As it is, you have taken little by your stratagem--unless, indeed, it should be difficult for the young lady to prove the imposition put upon her--for that being admitted, the marriage certainly goes for nothing.

At least, the only use you can make of it, would be to drive her into a more formal union, for fear of having this whole unpleasant discussion brought into a court of law; and in this, with all the advantages you possess, joined to your own arts of persuasion, and her brother's influence, I should think you very likely to succeed.

All women are necessarily the slaves of their reputation.

I have known some who have given up their virtue to preserve their character, which is, after all, only the shadow of it.

I therefore would not conceive it difficult for Clara Mowbray to persuade herself to become a countess, rather than be the topic of conversation for all Britain, while a lawsuit betwixt you is in dependence; and that may be for the greater part of both your lives.
"But, in Miss Mowbray's state of mind, it may require time to bring her to such a conclusion; and I fear you will be thwarted in your operations by your rival--I will not offend you by calling him your brother.