“It is a fact, uncle; here is the paper, look for yourself.” “What the deuce does he mean by it, Alice? How dare he marry without speaking to me first?” “I don't know, I am sure, uncle, it seems strange, but there is a letter on the table for you, and I think it is in his handwriting.” Captain Bradshaw opened the letter. “Yes, it is from him.” “MY DEAR UNCLE,— You will, I am sure, be surprised at the news that I am married. Indeed, I am almost surprised myself. It has indeed been rather a sudden affair at the end, although I have been attached to the young lady for a considerable time.” (Captain Bradshaw did not notice the little look of amused contempt upon his niece's face.) “I should have spoken to you on the subject, but I hate fuss, and I think one marriage in a family is quite enough at a time. I did not, therefore, wish to bore you with my domestic affairs. You will, I feel sure, uncle, excuse any apparent disrespect in my not mentioning the matter to you, but I did not even tell my father until two days ago. My wife is just twenty-one years of age, is pretty, at least I suppose I ought to think so, and has a snug little fortune, which, to a man fighting his way in life, is of importance; and I cannot, like my cousin Frank, afford to be romantic. I trust, my dear uncle, that when I inform you of the particulars, and present my wife to you, you will approve of the step I have taken. “Your affectionate nephew, “FRED BINGHAM.” “He is a strange young fellow, Alice. Never does anything like anyone else. It is just as well though; as he says, two marriages on the cards would have been rather overpowering.” “It is all a matter of opinion, uncle. I should not like a husband of mine to marry me in that sort of way, as if he were ashamed of the whole affair.” “I don't suppose he's ashamed, Alice. I am afraid though, very much afraid by the name, Oldham you see, that he has married into the cotton mills. It doesn't matter much in his case. He's a railway contractor, and I suppose not particular. Had it been Frank, it would have been a serious matter. I shouldn't like to think of a cotton spinner's daughter at Wyvern Hall. As it is, her money—you see he says she has a snug fortune—will be very useful to him. There's no romance about Fred.” “I should think not,” Alice said scornfully. “No,” her uncle went on, unheeding the tone, “not a bit. He's wide awake, is Master Fred. You see she's no father, is just twenty-one, and he married her suddenly. I shouldn't be at all surprised,” and he laughed, “if there was no time to have settlements drawn out.” “Oh, uncle,” Alice said impetuously, “how can you laugh? to me all this is shocking.”