There was, however, one drawback.
She had one dispute with her grandfather—he was desirous that she should relinquish the name of Gatliffe, and that she would not consent to do.
She looked at him with flashing eyes, and her face flushed up with anger as he made this proposition.
“I have broken my husband’s heart,” she said, in a tone of sadness; “I have deserted him, my lord—I have embittered his life. All this is bad enough, but I will not give up his name. I was proud enough the day I bore it first, and you have no right to ask me to give it up.”
These were the first angry words she had spoken to the proud old earl—the first that had ever fallen from her lips since he had known her.
He was astounded at her boldness, and murmured, “The Ethalwood spirit. I could never have believed it had I not heard her utter such a bold defiance.”
He saw it was useless to urge the point—she had evidently more determination and spirit than he had given her credit for.
Nevertheless he was deeply mortified.
Aveline was known as “Mrs. Gatliffe,” Lord Ethalwood’s beautiful grand-daughter.
People at first used to ask where was her husband—who was he?