Dinner was now announced.
Mr. Force gave the stranger his arm, and led the way to the dining room, followed by the other members of the party.
As the dinner went on, each member of the family felt more and more wonder that Col. Anglesea should ever have thought of marrying the woman who claimed him. Handsome, good-humored and sensible she certainly was; but—she talked and laughed loudly, called the master and mistress of the house the old man and the old ’oman; loudly praised the dishes she preferred, asking to be helped to them three or four times; ate with her knife, dipping the same knife into the saltcellar or the butter dish; and, indeed, she shocked good taste in many ways.
How, indeed, could Angus Anglesea ever have married such a woman?
It was not until after tea, when the family party were assembled in the drawing room, and Mrs. Force had sent away the two little girls, in charge of their governess, that the story of that marriage was told.
There were present Mr. and Mrs. Force, Leonidas and Mrs. Anglesea.
They were gathered around the open grate, where a glowing fire of sea coal burned.
“Yes,” said the woman, putting her feet upon the low, brass fender and drawing up the edge of her dress, to toast her ankles, “this is just as good a time to tell you all about it as any other, now that the young uns are gone to roost. I hate to talk about the wickedness of the world before the young uns; they will find it out quick enough for themselves, poor things! Well, you want to know what in the name o’ sense ever possessed me to marry that beat, don’t you?” she inquired of Mrs. Force.
It was not exactly the way in which the lady had put the question of the marriage to herself, but she bowed her head in assent.
“Well, then, my late husband, Zeb Wright, made a big fortune in the mines. Him and me was one of the very first that went out to the diggings. And he made his big pile by real hard hand work—and by none o’ your blasting and crushing and lifting machines and things.