"A what?" gasped Jane.
"A proposal of marriage was what I said," repeated Mr. Aubrey-Blythe rebukingly. "A most honorable and—er—highly flattering proposal, in short. I own that I was surprised, and so—er—was my wife, Lady Agatha."
Jane's own emotions were clearly depicted upon her young face. She was leaning forward in her chair, her large eyes fixed upon her uncle.
"Who—" she began; then stopped short.
"You have, of course, met the gentleman who has paid you this great compliment—the highest compliment—er—that man can pay to woman," proceeded Mr. Aubrey-Blythe grandly. "The proposal reached me by letter last week, and the author of that letter was"—he paused dramatically—"the Hon. Wipplinger Towle."
The girl burst into a hysterical laugh.
"Jane, I beg— Will you not control yourself, madam? Ah—er—I see I shall be forced to call Lady Agatha."
Jane instantly became calm. "Don't—please don't call Aunt Agatha," she begged. "It was only—I couldn't help thinking——"
"I trust you will reflect carefully as to what this proposal means for you, Jane. I confess that I should have been—er—not displeased had the proposal embraced a different—that is to say—er—had the recipient of it been my own daughter, I should have been disposed to consider it not unfavorably. Lady Agatha was at first convinced that the gentleman had, in short, committed a most egregious blunder; but I am assured by word of mouth that this is not the case. It is you, Jane, he wishes to make his wife; you and no other. And I congratulate you sincerely upon the auspicious event. I will not deny that your future has been an occasional source of keen anxiety to me, and also, I believe, to my wife, Lady Agatha; portionless brides are not commonly sought by men—er—whose position in life is that of the Hon. Wipplinger Towle."
"But—Uncle Robert; you can't mean that I— You know I—couldn't marry that man, Uncle Robert."