One day, as he was riding home from Mount Severn, he met Kenelm Eyrle. They had not spoken for some time, but on this evening Kenelm walked up to him.
“One moment, Sir Ronald Alden,” he said. “I will not detain you; answer me this one question.”
“I will answer a hundred,” replied Sir Ronald, “if you will ask them as a friend, and not as an enemy.”
“There will be no more friendship between us,” was the calm reply. “Have you honor and honesty enough to tell me whether it is true that you are going to marry Miss Severn?”
“Although it can be no business of yours, I do not mind telling you that in a few weeks from now Miss Severn will be my wife.”
“You have wooed her and won her—you confess it,” cried Kenelm, fiercely.
“There is nothing to confess. I asked the lady to be my wife, and she consented viola tout.”
“I shall never waste another word upon you,” said Mr. Eyrle, indignantly, as he turned away; and Sir Ronald laughed.
“My lady has bidden him speak thus,” he thought. “Perhaps she wished to see if I was marrying from pique or love. Ah, Clarice, no one shall ever discover that.”
Kenelm Eyrle walked angrily to Mount Severn.