`` God grant it ! '' softly echoed Lady Trevlyn , adding , with a look askance at the old book , `` I read that history once , and fancied it must be a romance , such dreadful things are recorded in it . Is it all true , Richard ? '' `` Yes , dear . I wish it was not . Ours has been a wild , unhappy race till the last generation or two . The stormy nature came in with old Sir Ralph , the fierce Norman knight , who killed his only son in a fit of wrath , by a blow with his steel gauntlet , because the boy 's strong will would not yield to his . '' `` Yes , I remember , and his daughter Clotilde held the castle during a siege , and married her cousin , Count Hugo . 'T is a warlike race , and I like it in spite of the mad deeds . '' `` Married her cousin ! That has been the bane of our family in times past . Being too proud to mate elsewhere , we have kept to ourselves till idiots and lunatics began to appear . My father was the first who broke the law among us , and I followed his example : choosing the freshest , sturdiest flower I could find to transplant into our exhausted soil . '' `` I hope it will do you honor by blossoming bravely . I never forget that you took me from a very humble home , and have made me the happiest wife in England . '' `` And I never forget that you , a girl of eighteen , consented to leave your hills and come to cheer the long-deserted house of an old man like me , '' returned her husband fondly . `` Nay , do n't call yourself old , Richard ; you are only forty-five , the boldest , handsomest man in Warwickshire . But lately you look worried ; what is it ? Tell me , and let me advise or comfort you . '' `` It is nothing , Alice , except my natural anxiety for you -- Well , Kingston , what do you want ? ''
XXXXX 's tender tones grew sharp as he addressed the entering servant , and the smile on his lips vanished , leaving them dry and white as he glanced at the card he handed him .
Clotilde Count England Ralph Richard Trevlyn Warwickshire first knight lunatics