"No, no; I'm sure——" Then she paused suddenly, while a look of distress or of annoyance swept over her face. "Why, here comes Lord Probus," she said, in a lower tone of voice, while the hot blood flamed up into her pale cheeks in a moment.
Ralph turned quickly round and looked towards the park gates.
"Is that Lord Probus?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Good——" But he did not finish the sentence. She looked up into his face, and saw that it was dark with anger or disgust. Then she glanced again at the approaching figure of her affianced husband, then back again to the tall, handsome youth who stood by her side, and for a moment she involuntarily contrasted the two men. The lord and the commoner; the rich brewer and the poor, ejected tenant.
"Please pardon me for detaining you so long," he said hurriedly.
"You have not detained me at all," she replied. "It has been a pleasure to talk to you, for the days are very long and very dull."
"I hope you will soon be as well as ever," he answered; and he turned quickly on his heel and strode away.
"And I hope your father will soon——" But the end of the sentence did not reach his ears. For the moment he was not concerned about himself. The tragedy of his own life seemed of small account. It was the tragedy of her life that troubled him. It seemed a wicked thing that this fragile girl—not yet out of her teens—should marry a man old enough almost to be her grandfather.
What lay behind it, he wondered? What influences had been brought to bear upon her to win her consent? Was she going of her own free will into this alliance, or had she been tricked or coerced?