“I shall not shock you, then by some tidings I bring you regarding him,” returned Lord Mount Severn.
“The greatest shock to me would be to hear that I should ever again be subjected to the sight of him,” she answered.
“He is married.”
“Heaven have pity on his poor wife!” was all the comment of Lady Isabel.
“He has married Alice Challoner.”
She lifted her head, then, in simple surprise. “Alice? Not Blanche?”
“The story runs that he has played Blanche very false. That he has been with her much during the last three or four months, leading on her expectations; and then suddenly proposed for her younger sister. I know nothing of the details myself; it is not likely; and I heard nothing, until one evening at the club I saw the announcement of the marriage for the following day at St. George’s. I was at the church the next morning before he was.”
“Not to stop it; not to intercept the marriage!” breathlessly uttered the Lady Isabel.
“Certainly not. I had no power to attempt anything of the sort. I went to demand an answer to my question—what he had done with you, and where you were. He gave me this address, but said he knew nothing of your movements since December.”
There was a long silence. The earl appeared to be alternately ruminating and taking a survey of the room. Isabel sat with her head down.