“I don't complain of her,” he said, in a quiet tone.
“Then you are extremely forgiving; for, in my opinion, she used you shamefully.”
“You must not say a word against her,” exclaimed Sir Bridgnorth.
“Why not?” inquired Mildred, in surprise.
“For an excellent reason,” he replied. “She was your own mother.”
Mildred could scarcely repress a cry.
“I thought as much,” said Mrs. Calverley. “Your fair inconstant was the beautiful Annabella Chetwynd, my husband's first wife.”
“Exactly so,” said Sir Bridgnorth. “I never beheld her since her marriage,” he added, to Mildred. “No wonder, therefore, your appearance produced such an effect upon me. For a moment I thought she had come to life again. I shall always take an interest in you, and shall always be delighted to serve you. Since I cannot be your husband, you must allow me to be a friend.”
“That offer I gladly accept, Sir Bridgnorth,” she replied, extending her hand towards him.
He took it, and pressed it to his lips.