The commotion created by the marriage of John Ashbrook and Patty Jamblin had long since subsided and the bride and bridegroom returned to the old farmhouse.
The usual amount of visits were paid, and the “happy pair” were suffered to settle down into their own natural unobtrusive mode of life.
Meanwhile Mr. Chicknell had been very busy in the Divorce Court for the purpose of obtaining a decree nisi in the case of Gatliffe v. Gatliffe. The reader will remember that we left Aveline and Lady Marvlynn together discussing the all-important question in a previous chapter.
It appeared that the earl’s grand-daughter, however, had a will of her own. She would not consent to be made a mere puppet in the hands of others, and after her interview with Lady Marvlynn she reconsidered the matter, and boldly declared that the suit should not proceed.
The earl lost his temper—this was a very wrong thing for him to do, considering his years and high social position—but he displayed his anger to Lady Marvlynn, who was good enough to act as a convenient buffer to break the shock which otherwise might have been attended with much more serious consequences.
“She must have taken leave of her senses, the silly, wayward girl,” he cried, in a fury. “My dear Lady Marvlynn, you must give her a good talking to. Tell her I am greatly incensed.”
“I have told her so—I have talked to her, my lord,” returned her ladyship.
“Well, and what said she?”
“Ah, she has said enough in all conscience. I think her pride is wounded—her feelings are so easily worked upon, she is so very impressionable, so sensitive.”
“All this I know perfectly well,” interrupted the earl, “have known it for a long time past, but what of it? You surely don’t mean to tell me, Lady Marvlynn, that my grand-daughter is so unjust, so unreasonable, so undutiful, as to persist in offering an impediment to what she knows and believes to be essential to my peace of mind?”