“Nor I, that he was so interested in the poor but misguided girl,” added Mrs. Coolidge, with sarcastic commiseration.
She had never forgiven Adrian’s preference for the beautiful governess that night at the opera, and could not now conceal her spite.
He wheeled upon her in an instant.
“I am deeply interested in her, madam. Miss Douglas is my betrothed wife; and I warn you to be very careful how you speak of her in the future. I could say much more, but”—with a glance from Isabel to Sir Charles—“existing circumstances compel me to be silent.”
CHAPTER XXXI
BROWNIE’S STRANGE VISITOR
Had an earthquake shaken the house at that moment greater consternation could not have prevailed than at this announcement.
“Adrian, surely you are crazy!” almost shrieked Lady Randal, at last. “You make such a mésalliance as that!”
“Call it whatever you choose, madam, but please remember when you speak of Miss Douglas in the future, that you are speaking of the future Lady of Dunforth,” he said, coldly, but proudly.
Surely a nobler specimen of manhood never braved the world’s scorn than Adrian Dredmond at that moment; and poor Brownie, although in “durance vile” above them, might well look hopefully into the future, which should be passed by the side of such a noble defender as this.
Turning to Sir Charles, he made a signal for him to follow him, and then, with a haughty bow to the assembled company, he withdrew.