'But I do, and must, now!'
'Why?'
'Because we are already married—she is my wife,' was the steady response.
'Married!' exclaimed his father and mother with one accord, as they started from their chairs together, and another ominous silence of a minute ensued.
'My poor, lost boy—the prey of an artful minx!' said Lady Fettercairn, looking as if she would like to weep; but tears were rather strangers to her cold blue eyes.
'Mother, dear mother, if you only knew her, you would not talk thus of Flora,' urged Lennard almost piteously. 'If we had it in our power to give love and to withhold it, easy indeed would our progress be through life.'
'Love—nonsense!'
'Save to the two most interested, who are judges of it,' said Lennard. 'Surely you loved my father, and he you.'
'Our case was very different,' replied Lady Fettercairn, in her anger actually forgetting herself so far as to bite feathers off her fan with her firm white teeth.
'How, mother dear?'