“I can only say, my Lady, that I took pains enough to get the story accurately; and as Kuffner, the courier, was at the marriage—”
“Marriage!” broke she in, with a sarcastic irony; “why, sir, it is not thus a peer of England selects the person who is to share his dignity.”
“But you forget, my Lady,” interposed Spicer, “that he did n't know he was a peer—he had not the slightest expectation of being one—at the time. Old Grog knew it—”
“Have a care, sir, and do not you forget yourself. These familiar epithets are for your associates in the ring, and not for my ears.”
“Well, the Captain, my Lady,—he is as well known by that name as the other,—he had all the information, and kept back the letters, and managed the whole business so cleverly that the first Mr. Beeeher ever knew of his. Lordship's death was when hearing it from Mr. Twining at Baden.”
“I thought Mr. Twining was in Algiers, or Australia, I forget which,” said Lady Grace, gently.
“Such a marriage must be a mockery,—a mere mockery. He shall break it,—he must break it!” said Lady Lacking-ton, as she walked up and down with the long strides and the step of a tigress in a cage.
“Oh dear! they are so difficult to break!” sighed Lady-Grace. “Mr. Twining always promised me a divorce when the law came in and made it so cheap, and now he says that it's all a mistake, and until another Bill, or an Act, or something or other, is passed, that it's a luxury far above persons of moderate fortune.”
“Break it he shall,” muttered Lady Lackington, as she continued her march.
“Of course, dearest, expense doesn't signify to you,” sighed out Lady Grace.