My uncle will marry that woman."
It was only on the eve of his wedding-day that Sir Oswald Eversleigh
made any communication to his valet. While dressing for dinner that
evening, he said, quietly--
"I want my portmanteaus packed for travelling between this and two
o'clock to-morrow, Millard; and you will hold yourself in readiness to
accompany me. I shall post from London, starting from a house near
Fulham, at three o'clock. The chariot must leave here, with you and the
luggage, at two."
"You are going abroad, sir?"
"No, I am going to North Wales for a week or two; but I do not go
alone. I am going to be married to-morrow morning, Millard, and Lady
Eversleigh will accompany me."
Much as the probability of this marriage had been discussed in the
Arlington Street household, the fact came upon Joseph Millard as a
surprise. Nothing is so unwelcome to old servants as the marriage of a
master who has long been a bachelor. Let the bride be never so fair,
never so high-born, she will be looked on as an interloper; and if, as
in this case, she happens to be poor and nameless, the bridegroom is
regarded as a dupe and a fool; the bride is stigmatized as an
adventuress.
The valet was fully occupied that evening with preparations for the
journey of the following day, and could find no time to call at Mr.
Eversleigh's lodgings with his evil tidings.
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