Even Josiah Cornthwaite was puzzled by Bram’s reception of the news. The young man seemed absolutely unmoved by the fresh proof of his employer’s confidence given in the information that he was to be sent to London on important business. He grew even uneasy as Bram’s silence continued, or was broken only by the briefest and coldest of answers. He looked from his son to Bram, and perceived that there was some understanding between them. And his fears grew apace. He shortened the stay in the dining-room, therefore, and letting Mr. Hibbs and Chris enter the drawing-room together, he took Bram up the stairs, with the excuse of showing him the view of the town from one of the windows. Bram was shrewd enough to guess that he was to be “pumped.” “This news about my son’s intended marriage seems to have taken you by surprise, Elshaw,” said Mr. Cornthwaite as they stood together looking out on the blurred lights of the town below. “Well, sir, it has,” admitted Bram briefly. “But you know he is twenty-six, an age at which a young man who can afford it ought to be thinking of marrying.” “Oh, yes.” “You thought, perhaps, that such a volatile fellow would be scarcely likely to make such a sensible choice as he has done?” went on Josiah with an air of bland indulgence, but with some anxiety in his eyes. There was a pause. “That was what you thought, eh?” repeated Mr. Cornthwaite more sharply. Bram Elshaw frowned. “Sir, may I speak out?” asked he bluntly. “Certainly.” “Well, then, sir, I don’t think it is a wise choice--if it was his choice at all, and not yours, sir?” Now, Mr. Cornthwaite, while giving his permission to speak out, had not expected such uncompromising frankness as this. He was taken aback. He stammered as he began to answer-- “Why, why, what do you mean? Could there be a more sensible choice than such a lady as Miss Hibbs? A good daughter, not frivolous, or vain, or flighty; a sensible, affectionate girl, devoted to her parents and to good works. Just such a girl, in fact, as can be depended upon to make a thoroughly good, devoted wife.” “For some sort of men, sir. But not for a man like Mr. Christian,” returned Bram with decision. His blood was up, and he spoke with as much firmness as, and with more fire than, he had ever before shown to his employer. Mr. Cornthwaite, who had grounds for feeling uneasy, was lenient, patient, attentive, curious. “Why, don’t you know, Elshaw,” said he sharply, “that a man should mate with his opposite if he wants to be happy? That grave and serious men like frivolous wives; but that your lively young fellow likes a sober-minded wife to keep his house in order?” “Sir, if it’s Mr. Christian’s choice, there’s an end of it,” said Bram brusquely. “Of course it’s his choice, none the less, but rather the more, that it meets not only with my approval, but with that of the ladies of my family,” said Mr. Cornthwaite pompously.