HER OWN PEOPLE
CHAPTER I
"Oh yes! I know what it is to be hard up myself! I'm hard up now!—but I'll help you in another way. You must marry, Malcolm, my boy! Leave it to me, and I'll find you a rich wife!"
In making the foregoing boastful promise, Sir Horace Haig raised a naturally harsh voice, and all but shouted his officious announcement. The empty air seemed to echo the words, "rich wife"—"rich wife," their regular measured tread to repeat, "rich wife"—"rich wife," as the two men, uncle and nephew, hurried down a by-street in Homburg.
There was good reason for haste, a neighbouring clock was chiming the hour, and already they were unfashionably late for the morning ceremonies at the Elisabeth Brunnen.
"But——" began the prospective Benedict, in a doubtful tone.
"My grandfather used to say," interrupted his uncle, in a loud authoritative key, "that a man should marry young, and marry often. He had four wives!"