"Others thought for you," said Lady Earle, dryly. "Of course, if I am mistaken, there is no more to be said; I merely intended to say how happy such a marriage would make me. If you do not love the young lady the matter ends, I suppose."
"Can you not love her, Ronald?" asked his mother, gently. "She is so fair and good, so well fitted to be the future mistress of Earlescourt. Can you not love her?"
"Nothing was further from my thoughts," he replied.
"Surely," interrupted Lady Earle, "you have forgotten the idle, boyish folly that angered your father some time since—that can not be your reason?"
"Hush, mother," said Ronald, standing erect and dauntless; "I was coming to tell you my secret when you met me. Father, I deceived and disobeyed you. I followed Dora Thorne to Eastham, and married her there."
A low cry came from Lady Earle's lips. Ronald saw his father's face grow white—livid—with anger; but no word broke the awful silence that fell upon them. Hours seemed to pass in the space of a few minutes.
"You married her," said Lord Earle, in a low, hoarse voice, "remembering what I said?"
"I married her," replied Ronald, "hoping you would retract hard, cruel words that you never meant. I could not help it, father; she has no one but me; they would have forced her to marry some one she did not like."
"Enough," interrupted Lord Earle. "Tell me when and where. Let me understand whether the deed is irrevocable or not."
Calmly, but with trembling lips, Ronald gave him every particular.