'You told me you were going to marry a poor man?'
'I know. But he cheated me, and turned out to be a rich man. He was a horrid impostor,' said Mary, drawing closer to her husband, and smiling up at him.
The old man flung down the lid of his strong box, which shut with a sonorous clang. He locked it, and put the key in his pocket.
'I have done with you.' he said. 'You can go your ways, both of you. Fools, fools, fools! The world is peopled with rogues and fools; and, by heaven, I would rather have to do with the rogues!'
He flung himself into an arm-chair, one of the few objects of furniture in the room, and left them to find their way back alone.
'Good-night, sir,' said Lord Hartfield; but the old man made no reply. He sat frowning sullenly.
'Good-night, sir,' said Mary, in her gentle voice, breathing infinite pity.
'Good-night, child,' he growled. 'I am sorry you have married an ass.'
This was more than Mary could stand, and she was about to reply with some acrimony, when her husband put his hand upon her lips and hurried her away.
On the landing they met Mrs. Steadman, a stout, commonplace person, who always had the same half-frightened look, as of one who lived in the shadow of an abiding terror, obviously cowed and brow-beaten by her husband, according to the Fellside household.