But in one respect I have done
that which will cause him great annoyance and anger. I have married
without his knowledge."
The doctor looked up with greater interest; perhaps his thoughts
reverted to the grave in the starlight. Lord Charlewood moved uneasily
in his chair.
"I cannot say that I am sorry," he continued, "for I love my wife very
dearly; but I do wish now that I had been less hurried, less
precipitate. My wife's great loveliness must be my excuse. She is the
daughter of a poor curate, the Reverend Charles Trevor, who came two
years ago to supply temporarily the place of the Rector of Lynton. He
brought his daughter with him; and the first moment I saw her I fell in
love with her. My heart seemed to go out from me and cleave to her. I
loved her with what I can see now was the selfish ardor of a young man.
I had but one thought--to win her. I wrote to my father, who was in
Italy, and asked his consent. He refused it in the most decided manner,
and told me to think no more of what after all was but a boy's fancy. He
was then staying near the Lake of Como--staying for the benefit of his
health--and I went over to see him.
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