Sir Philip started from his seat in anger. "This taunt is too much even from you!" he exclaimed. "How dare you?"
"I dare anything. If the words sound harsh, you have brought them on yourself by your rash act and forgetfulness of the respect you owed me. What will the world say about Sir Philip Longridge's marriage? Have you announced it in the papers, or is the world to hear of it through gossiping servants?"
"I have made no announcement of my marriage to outsiders. You are the first in England to hear of it. I crossed the Channel to-day, and hurried to Northbrook with all possible speed. At least, mother, give me credit for having lost no time in coming to you. If I had known what I now do, I should have hesitated before bringing my wife home!"
Sir Philip laid a bitter stress on the last word.
There was not much sign of feeling in the reply: "Now you are here you had better tell me all about it."
But he complied with the half request conveyed in the words, and told the story of his marriage as briefly as possible.
The father of Florence Winstanley, an enthusiastic traveller like himself, had met with an accident during a mountain excursion. Sir Philip found him at a village inn of the poorest description, and in an out-of-the-world spot, just recovering his senses after many days spent in delirious ravings or silent unconsciousness. He had watched over him for weeks, and as soon as the sufferer was fit to be moved, had travelled with him by easy stages to Geneva, where he had left his daughter, and only child.
The homecoming was a terrible shock to the girl. Her father and she were all in all to each other, and in addition to the trial of seeing him so sadly changed, she soon had the greater one of knowing that he had only returned to die at home. It was during the last month of Mr. Winstanley's life that the man of mature years and the girl of eighteen were drawn together; and Florence became engaged to him who had first earned her gratitude by his devotion to her father. They would not have married so soon, but for Mr. Winstanley's wish to place his darling under the care of a loving husband before he was called to leave the world. There was no doubt about the affection of the two for each other, so they were married, and the bride of a week stood by her father's grave, leaning on the arm of the bridegroom, Sir Philip Longridge.
The pair lingered no longer than was necessary. There were business matters to settle, and these completed, they turned their faces homeward, to meet with the reception already described at Northbrook Hall.
"You see, mother, I could hardly help myself," added Sir Philip. "We were going to be married, but the fact of Mr. Winstanley's being on his death-bed precipitated matters. There was no time to let you know beforehand, and when the thing was done, why, it seemed so much better to tell you all about it than to attempt to write. I know you will feel a little annoyed, but after all you must see that the position was peculiar, and my poor darling's sad loss and loneliness, to say nothing of her lovely face and sweet nature, ought to appeal to your motherly heart."