When the earl, a few weeks previously, had urged upon him the necessity for marrying Beatrice, Ivar had lacked the courage to confess that he had a wife already, knowing that the statement would be certain to evoke his father's anger, and Ivar stood in considerable awe of his father.
Accordingly, he had made a pretence of submission, and had gone so far as to delude the earl with the fiction that he was paying successful court to Beatrice. This contemptible subterfuge was not one that could be long continued in any circumstances; but Lorelie's sudden resolve for recognition threatened to bring matters to a climax that very day.
"You have come here to create a vulgar scene before all the servants, I see," scowled Ivar.
"I have come here to redeem my name," she answered indignantly. "Do you know that at the flower-show yesterday ladies turned aside to avoid me, and that I caught the half-whispered words, 'Lord Walden's mistress'? Do you wish me to return to The Cedars to live there under such a name? I will keep silent no longer. To day all Ormsby shall know that I am Viscountess Walden."
Vainly did Ivar try to temporize, to persuade, to cajole, to threaten. Lorelie continued inflexible.
"Take me to your father," she said. "My maiden name will compel him to acknowledge me."
"What is there in the name of Rivière to charm him?" asked Ivar, in surprise.
"Nothing, but much in the name of Rochefort," she answered, rising to her feet. "Will you go with me, or shall I go alone to inform him that I have married a craven who lacks the spirit and courage to tell the truth?"
Ivar saw the necessity of yielding. Looking with a very ill grace at his wife he touched a hand-bell on the table.
"Where is the earl?" he asked of the footman, who appeared in answer to the summons.