“He had deserved none,” replied Annabella, with something of her old haughtiness in her tone, for very bitter were the memories connected with Timon Bardon.
“There is but one man,” pursued the earl, “who, as far as I know, entertains any feeling of resentment against me, or has any just cause to do so. That man is Dr. Bardon.”
“It is you who have just cause for resentment against him,” said the countess.
“His pride and mine clashed together, and like the collision of flint and steel produced the angry spark which set his spirit in a flame. But, Annabella, I now desire to be at peace with all men. I have never returned the doctor’s visit,—you and I will do so to-day.”
Annabella opened her large eyes so wide at a proposition so unexpected, as to raise a smile on the lips of the earl.
“You think that I am still too proud to let the red liveries of the Dashleighs be seen at the door of Mill Cottage?”
“If you were to invade that little nest,” said the countess, “you would find that the birds had flown. Do you not remember that Dr. Bardon is now the proprietor of Nettleby Tower?”
“Ah! I recollect—by Auger’s will, was it not?” replied Dashleigh, raising his thin hand to his brow. “But this need make no difference in our arrangement for a visit. We will order the carriage in the cool of the eve, and drive over to wish the old man and his daughter joy on their return to the family mansion.”
Annabella turned upon her husband a look of admiration and love. She knew how much it must cost him to make the first step towards reconciliation with a man who had wronged, hated, and insulted him. Never, even in the earliest days of their union, had Dashleigh possessed such influence over the affections of his young wife, as he gained by the simple, unostentatious act which marked a conquest over Pride and self.