“No, but the strangest thing in the world has happened.”
“It must be something strange to disturb your equanimity like this; but what is it?” inquired the girl, eagerly.
“Your Uncle William is going to be married!”
“You cannot mean it, mamma?—at last!” cried Lillian, amazed; then she added, with a gay laugh: “The dear old bachelor! Well, you will have your wish, after all. You have wanted him to marry for the last dozen years.”
“Yes; and—I am glad—I am delighted!” replied Lady Linton, slowly, but with strange exultation in her voice, while her eyes gleamed with almost ferocious triumph.
“Well, I am astonished. I had given Uncle Will up as a hardened case,” Lillian said, growing more and more surprised, as she considered the matter; “but do tell me who is the happy woman?”
“A niece of Lord Norton who has just died; you know we read of his death last week, and I have been wondering why your uncle did not write. This accounts for it,” replied Lady Linton. Then taking up his letter, she continued: “I will read you what he says. The epistle is very brief, and does not sound like him at all, but I suppose we must excuse it under the circumstances.”
“‘You will doubtless be surprised by the contents of this letter,’ he writes, ‘and as I have much on my mind, I will simply state bare facts, leaving details until my return. You already know of my having taken my cousin’s place as temporary amanuensis to Lord Norton. I was enabled to complete the manuscript for him the week before his death, which occurred on the ninth. But, during my visits to him, I met a niece of his, who, I may say, is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. By his lordship’s will she becomes the heiress to all his possessions, which consist of his fine estate called Englewood, here in Chester, besides a large amount of personal property. To make a long story short, however, I am going to make this lady my wife, and as I am too old to waste any time upon forms or so-called etiquette, we intend to be married immediately—that is, within the month—about the twenty-first, I think, after which we shall repair to Heathdale, where we shall quietly remain for the present. The wedding will be strictly private on account of his lordship’s recent death and in compliance with the request of his niece. I will, however, notify you further of my plans before the twenty-first.’”
The epistle closed abruptly and rather formally, and Lady Linton’s face was crimson as she concluded the reading of it.
“It is the most unheard of thing in the world!” she said, excitedly. “A private wedding, indeed—not even his own sister invited, and it is all so sudden that it fairly takes my breath away.”