“As it was,” said the earl.
“Country solicitors have married peers’
daughters before now,” remarked Mr. Carlyle.
“I only add another to the list.”
“But you cannot keep her as a peer’s daughter,
I presume?”
“East Lynne will be her home. Our establishment
will be small and quiet, as compared with her father’s.
I explained to Isabel how quiet at the first, and
she might have retracted had she wished. I explained
also in full to Lady Mount Severn. East Lynne
will descend to our eldest son, should we have children.
My profession is most lucrative, my income good; were
I to die to-morrow, Isabel would enjoy East Lynne and
about three thousand pounds per annum. I gave
these details in the letter, which appears to have
miscarried.”
The earl made no immediate reply; he was absorbed
in thought.
“Your lordship perceives, I hope, that there
has been nothing ‘clandestine’ in my conduct
to Lady Isabel.”
Lord Mount Severn held out his hand. “I
refused my hand when you came in, Mr. Carlyle, as
you may have observed, perhaps you will refuse yours
now, though I should be proud to shake it. When
I find myself in the wrong, I am not above acknowledging
the fact; and I must state my opinion that you have
behaved most kindly and honorably.”
Mr. Carlyle smiled and put his hand into the earl’s.
The latter retained it, while he spoke in a whisper.
“Of course I cannot be ignorant that, in speaking
of Isabel’s ill-treatment, you alluded to my
wife. Has it transpired beyond yourselves?”
“You may be sure that neither Isabel nor myself
would mention it; we shall dismiss it from among our
reminiscences. Let it be as though you had never
heard it; it is past and done with.”
“Isabel,” said the earl, as he was departing
that evening, for he remained to spend the day with
them, “I came here this morning almost prepared
to strike your husband, and I go away honoring him.
Be a good and faithful wife to him, for he deserves
it.”
“Of course I shall,” she answered, in
surprise.
Lord Mount Severn steamed on to Castle Marling, and
there he had a stormy interview with his wife—so
stormy that the sounds penetrated to the ears of the
domestics. He left again the same day, in anger,
and proceeded to Mount Severn.
“He will have time to cool down, before we meet
in London,” was the comment of my lady.
COMING HOME.
Miss Carlyle, having resolved upon her course, quitted
her own house, and removed to East Lynne with Peter
and her handmaidens. In spite of Mr. Dill’s
grieved remonstrances, she discharged the servants
whom Mr. Carlyle had engaged, all save one man.
On a Friday night, about a month after the wedding,
Mr. Carlyle and his wife came home. They were
expected, and Miss Carlyle went through the hall to
receive them, and stood on the upper steps, between
the pillars of the portico. An elegant chariot
with four post-horses was drawing up. Miss Carlyle
compressed her lips as she scanned it. She was
attired in a handsome dark silk dress and a new cap;
her anger had had time to cool down in the last month,
and her strong common sense told her that the wiser
plan would be to make the best of it. Mr. Carlyle
came up the steps with Isabel.
