"
"We will have no more of it," she passionately retorted; "and I'll have
no more of your Thomas Carrs. It is not right that you should bring a man
here who has deliberately insulted me. Be quiet, Lord Hartledon; he has.
What else was it but an insult--his going out of the chapel in the manner
he did, when we were before the altar? It was a direct intimation that he
did not countenance the marriage. He would have preferred, I suppose,
that you should marry your country sweetheart, Anne Ashton."
A hot flush rose to Lord Hartledon's brow, but his tone was strangely
temperate. "I have already warned you, Maude, that we shall do well to
discard that name from our discussions, and if possible from our
thoughts; it may prove better for both of us."
"Better for you, perhaps; but you are _not_ going to exercise any control
over my will, or words, or action; and so I tell you at once. I'm quite
old enough to be out of leading-strings, and I'll be mistress in my own
house. You will do well to send a note to your amiable friend Carr; it
may save him a useless journey; for at my table he shall not sit. Now you
know, Val."
She spoke impatiently, haughtily, and swept out to her carriage. Val did
not follow to place her in; he positively did not, but left her to the
servants. Never in his whole life perhaps had he felt so nettled, never
so resolute: the once vacillating, easily-persuaded man, when face to
face with people, was speedily finding the will he had only exercised
behind their backs.
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