"My dear and honored wife," replied the young man.
"Do you mean to tell me that you have actually married this lady, Lance--really married her?"
"I have, indeed, father, and it is about the best action of my life,"
said Lord Chandos.
"How do you intend to face my lady?" asked the earl, with the voice and manner of one who proposes a difficulty not to be solved.
"I thought you would help us, father; at least, speak to my wife."
The earl looked at the beautiful, distressed face.
"I am very sorry," he said, "sorry for you, Lance, and the lady, but I cannot receive her as your wife."
"She is my wife, whether you receive her or not," said Lord Chandos.
"Leone, how can I apologize to you? I never expected that my father would receive you in this fashion. Father, look at her; think how young, how beautiful she is; you cannot be unkind to her."
"I have no wish to be unkind," said the earl, "but I cannot receive her as your wife."
Then, seeing the color fade from her face, he hastened to find her a chair, and poured out a gla.s.s of wine for her; he turned with a stern face to his son.
"What have you been doing?" he cried. "While your mother and I thought you were working hard to make up for lost time, what have you been doing?"
"I have been working very hard," he replied, "and my work will bring forth good fruit; but, father, I have found leisure for love as well."
"So it seems," said the earl, dryly; "perhaps you will tell me who this lady is, and why she comes home with you?"
"My wife; her name was Leone Noel; she is now Lady Chandos."
For the first time Leone spoke.
"I am a farmer"s niece, my lord," she said, simply.
Her voice had a ring of music in it so sweet that it struck the earl with wonder.
"A farmer"s niece," he replied. "You will forgive me for saying that a farmer"s niece can be no fitting wife for my son."
"I love him, my lord, very dearly, and I will try hard to be all that he can wish me to be."
"Bravely spoken; but it is quite in vain; my lady would never hear of such a thing--I dare not--I cannot sanction it, even by a word, my lady would never forgive me. Can you tell me when this rash action was accomplished?"
"This is our wedding-day, father," cried Lord Chandos. "Only think of it, our wedding-day, and you receive us like this. How cruel and cold."
"Nay, I am neither," said the earl; "it is rather you, Lance, who do not seem to realize what you have done. You seem to think you belong to yourself; you are mistaken; a man in your position belongs to his country, his race, to his family, not to himself; that view of the question, probably, did not strike you."
"No," replied Lord Chandos, "it certainly did not; but, father, if I have done wrong, forgive me."
"I do forgive you, my dear boy, freely; young men will be foolish--I forgive you; but do not ask me to sanction your marriage or receive your wife. I cannot do it."
"Then, of what use is your forgiveness? Oh, father, I did not expect this from you; you have always been so kind to me. I had fancied difficulties with my mother, but none with you."
"My dear Lance, we had better send for my lady; she is really, as you know, the dominant spirit of our family. She will decide on what is to be done."
"I insist on my wife being treated with due respect," raged the young lord.
"My dear Lance, you must do as you will; I refuse to recognize this lady in any way. Will you tell me when and where you were married?"
"Certainly: this morning, by the Reverend Mr. Barnes, at the Church of St. Barnabas, in Oheton, a little village twenty miles from Rashleigh.
The marriage was all _en regle_; we had the bans published and witnesses present."
"You took great pains to be exact, and the lady, you tell me, is a farmer"s niece."
"My uncle is Farmer Robert Noel; he has a farm at Rashleigh," said Leone, "and in his way is an honest, loyal, honorable man."
The earl could not help feeling the sweet, soft music of that voice; it touched his heart.
"I believe you," he said, "but it is a sad thing Farmer Noel did not take more care of his niece. I am sorry it has happened; I can do nothing to help you; my lady must manage it all."
"But, father," pleaded the young man, "it was on you I relied; it was to your efforts I trusted. Be my friend; if you will receive my wife here and acknowledge her, no one else can say a word."
"My dear boy, only yesterday your mother and I were speaking of something on which the whole desire of her heart was fixed; remembering that conversation I tell you quite frankly that I dare not do what you ask me; your mother would never speak to me again."
"Then, Leone, darling, we will go; Heaven forbid that we should remain where we are not welcome. Father," he cried, in sudden emotion, "have you not one kind word, not one blessing for me, on my wedding-day?"
"I refuse to believe that it is your wedding-day, Lance. When that day does come, you shall have both kind words and blessings from me."
CHAPTER XI.
THE LAWYER"S STATEMENT.
Lady Lanswell stood in the library at Dunmore House, her handsome face flushed with irritation and annoyance, her fine eyes flashing fire. She looked like one born to command; her tall, stately figure bore no signs of age; her traveling dress of rich silk swept the ground in graceful folds. She had not removed her mantle of rich lace; it hung from her shoulders still; she had removed her bonnet and gloves. With one jeweled hand resting on the table, she stood, the picture of indignation and anger.
Lord Lanswell had sent a telegram at once, when his son left him, begging her to come at once, as Lance had something important to tell her.
My lady lost no time; she was far more quick and keen of judgment than the earl. She never thought of gambling or betting, her thoughts all went to love. It was something about a girl, she said to herself; but she should stand no nonsense. Lance must remember what was due to his family. If he had made any such mistake as that of falling in love with one beneath him, then he must rectify the mistake as quickly as possible; there could be no _mesalliance_ in a family like theirs. As for any promise of marriage, if he had been so foolish as to make one he must break it. A sum of money would doubtless have to be expended over the matter, then it would be all right.
So thought my lady, and as the express drew near London she promised herself that all would be well. Her spirits rose, her fears abated; no son of hers would ever make a mistake so utterly absurd. There was something of scorn in my lady"s face as she entered Dunmore House. The earl met her in the entrance hall.
"I have lost no time, as you see," she said. "What is all this nonsense, Ross?"
He did not answer until they stood together in the library, with the door closed, and then she repeated the words. Something in her husband"s face dismayed her.
"Speak, Ross; I dislike suspense. Tell me at once; what has the boy done?"