"No," he said. "I wish we had, but—but I'm almost glad, for it gives me an opportunity, Lady Lackland, for putting my request. I have come down with my friend—he has indeed been a friend to me—to ask you to persuade Lady Ethel to name an early day for our—our wedding——"
At that moment the door opened and the earl entered.
His face was dark as night, and his lips working with some emotion; he held a letter in his hand, and when he saw the two men he, by a great effort, set his lips with a rigid smile and tried to conceal the letter with a hasty movement.
"Something has happened!" exclaimed the countess.
"Not to Lady Ethel!" almost shrieked Mr. Smythe.
The earl smiled with despair.
"Read that!" he cried, thrusting the letter into the countess' hands.
She read it aloud, with a puzzled air at first which rapidly gave place to a shriek of despair and rage.
"My Dear Father: By the time this reaches you Ethel and I shall be at Wivlehurst. Bertie Fairfax goes with us with a special license in his pocket, and he and Ethel will be married, all well, to-day.
"Forgive me my share in the affair, and remember that it is the first time since their birth that your children have dared to show that they have wills and hearts of their own! Your affectionate son,
"Fitz."
There was a moment's silence, which was broken by a hoarse cry of disappointment and misery.