"Certainly," answered Mr. Bragg. But he looked slightly surprised. "Of course, I don't mean the thing to be secret so far as I am concerned." "Why, no; we couldn't hardly keep it secret," said Mr. Bragg gravely. "Of course not. But if your answer should be favourable, I should like to be the first to tell--a--a person--the one or two persons who take any interest in me." "But I shall have to say a word to your uncle; and that's pretty well the same thing as saying it to your aunt, I take it." "Oh yes; to be sure. I didn't mean you not to mention it to _them_." "All right. I certainly shall not mention it to anybody else," returned Mr. Bragg. And when the young man was gone, he said to himself, "I wonder who else there is I _could_ mention it to that would care two straws one way or the other. I like his way. He don't jaw like that young Bransby. And he didn't try to soap me." The next day Owen Rivers was formally engaged as travelling secretary to Mr. Bragg for three months, beginning from October, which was now near at hand. CHAPTER X. Mrs. Dobbs had judged rightly as to the effect of May's letter on her Aunt Pauline. That sorely tried lady was overwhelmed at this time by various troubles. She did not write to May, but addressed a very long and somewhat rambling letter to Mrs. Dobbs. After the strongest expressions of dismay and horror at the rumour of her brother's marriage, Pauline proceeded-- "I really cannot answer May's letter--at all events, not at present. I am deeply distressed that she should have addressed me on the subject at all. It is such terribly bad form in a girl of her age to appear cognisant of _anything_ not brought to her knowledge by the proper channels. I had heard a vague report of the connection--which was bad enough. But who could have supposed that Augustus would have degraded himself to the point of _marrying_ such a person! But I ought not to trouble you with my feelings on this matter, for I am very sure you cannot imagine one tithe of the various distressing results to the family which will flow from it. It is much to be regretted that May so precipitately decided not to go to Glengowrie; particularly under recent untoward circumstances. I learn from a friend in town that my cousin, Mr. Lucius Cheffington, is much better. I do not mean, of course, that this is an untoward circumstance; but it alters the position of affairs. I scarcely know what I write. You may not be aware--few persons are aware--of the delicate state of my nervous system. I suffer keenly from any mental pressure. And of late I seem to have had nothing else! My cure at this place has been sadly interfered with by anxiety for others. But, really whether poor dear Lucius recover or not, if this story from Belgium is true, my niece's position will be a most painful one. From the tone of