“Why shouldn’t Laura marry Launcelot Darrell?”
“Because you have a bad opinion of him. What did you say to me by the garden-gate at Hazlewood, when Mr. Darrell first came home? You said he was selfish, shallow, frivolous; false, perhaps. You said there was a secret in his life.”
“I thought so then.”
“And have you ceased to think so now?”
“I don’t know. I may have been prejudiced against the young man,” answered Mr. Monckton, doubtfully.
“I don’t think you were,” Eleanor said; “I don’t think he is a good man. Pray, pray don’t let Laura marry him.”
She clasped her hands in her eagerness, as she looked up in her husband’s face.
Gilbert Monckton’s brow darkened.
“What does it matter to you?” he asked.
Eleanor looked surprised at the almost angry abruptness of her husband’s manner.