I have done, my lord,” exclaimed the lawyer. “You sent for me. I presume it was in reference to business matters.”
“It was.”
“I am at your service.”
“It is essential to my happiness—my peace of mind—that this young creature should remain with me—be my adopted. I have not many more years to live; but I cannot part with Aveline. You will say I am selfish, perhaps—that does not much concern me; but you will admit, with all your radical notions, that it is not seemly—not consistent with the ordinary usages of society—that a scion of the house of Ethalwood should be mated to a common, low-bred workman. It is, in point of fact, most intolerable.”
“It is unfortunate, I admit,” said the man of parchment; “but the contract took place before you were even acquainted with your grand-daughter, and I do not see very well how it can be rescinded.”
“It can be rescinded, and must be!” exclaimed the earl, with sudden vehemence.
“Mr. Chicknell, you know what I want.”
“Ah—a divorce!”
“That’s my meaning. Now you are talking like a sensible man. A divorce—how is it to be effected?”
The lawyer shook his head.