"Nay, not so," said the old man, with repressed eagerness; "it is time you began to think about it seriously, my lad, if I am to have the pleasure of drinking the health of your pretty bride."
Guy coloured, and fell to studying his wine-glass to hide his embarrassment.
"I should be sorry to think that you would not see my wedding, sir," he replied, with becoming seriousness; "but happily you are a rare man for your years, and will, I trust, see many more, for I am but a young fellow to think of marrying."
"Nonsense," said the old man, sharply; "you are twenty-four, and in your case there is no reason why marriage should be delayed. Now, do not smile, Guy, if you please. I am in earnest, and I wish you to be."
"Certainly, uncle, I will consider what you say; but a fellow can hardly get married at a moment's notice."
"Pshaw! How you talk!" cried old Stephen, impatiently. "One would think you had to go far to seek a bride. Come, sir, do you know what is being said about Aldyth at Woodham? Do you know that the gossips will have it she is going to marry that jackanapes in cap and gown—the fellow who lectures—tush! I've forgotten his name, but you know whom I mean."
Guy had turned a startled look on his uncle, and his face grew a shade paler as he caught the drift of his speech; but he said, coolly—
"Mr. Glynne, you mean. Well, why should not Aldyth marry him if she fancies him?"
"Guy, are you beside yourself? Do you know what you are saying? How dare you suggest that such a marriage would be suitable for Aldyth? A beggarly usher—a fellow of no social position whatever! Would you tamely submit to see her throw herself away upon such an one?"
There was growing passion in the old man's tones. Guy was alarmed, but he took refuge in sulky indifference.