’That is hardly spoken graciously.  If your uncle be rich, why should he not please himself in buying you a velvet gown?  I think the fair bride-elect has good taste.  You will look very well in dark-green velvet:  light tints would not suit you at all; red would be too gay.’

He spoke with such gravity and decision that I thought it best not to contradict him.  I even repressed my inclination to laugh:  if he liked to be dogmatic on the subject of my dress, I would not hinder him.  The next moment, however, he dismissed the matter.

’I agree with you in disliking gay weddings.  The idea is singularly repugnant to me.  Because two people elect to join hands for the journey of life, is there any adequate reason why all their idle acquaintances should accompany them with cymbals and prancings and all sorts of fooleries just at the most solemn moment of their life?’

‘I suppose they wish to express their sympathy,’ I returned.

’Sympathy should wear a quieter garb.  These folks come to church to show their fine feathers and make a fuss; they do not care a jot for the solemnity of the service; and yet to me it is as awful in its way as the burial service.  “Till death us do part,”—­can any one, man or woman, say these words lightly and not bring down a doom upon himself?’ He spoke with suppressed excitement, walking up and down the room:  one could see how strongly he felt his words.  Was he thinking of Mrs. Carrick?  I wondered.  He gave a slight shudder, as though some unwelcome thought obtruded itself, and then he turned to me with a forced smile.

’I am boring you, I am afraid.  I get horribly excited over the shams of conventionality.  What were we talking about?  Oh, I remember:  Gladys’s letter.  Yes, she has written to Lady Betty, but not such a volume as that,’ glancing at the closely written sheets.  ’You are her chief correspondent, I believe; but she told us her plans.  For my part, I am glad that she should enjoy this trip to Paris.  Really, the Maberleys are most kind.  I sent her a cheque to add to her amusements, for of course all girls like shopping.’

How generous he was to his sisters! with all his faults of manner, he seemed to grudge them nothing.  But all the same I knew Gladys would have valued a few kind words from him far more than the cheque; but perhaps he had written to her as well.  But he seemed rather surprised when I asked him the question.

’Oh no; I never write to my sisters:  they would not care for a letter from me.  Etta offered to enclose it in a letter she had just finished to Gladys, so that saved all trouble.  By the bye, Miss Garston, I hope you will come up to Gladwyn one evening before you leave Heathfield.  I do not see why we are to be deserted in this fashion.’

Neither did I, if he put it in this way:  reluctant as I was to spend an evening there in Gladys’s absence, it certainly was not quite kind either to him or to Lady Betty to refuse.  He seemed to anticipate a refusal, however, for he said hastily,—­