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.