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Under Suspicion


“Uncle Joseph, will you see to the luggage?”

“Certainly, madam,” I replied. I always called my brother’s second wife “madam;” we never quarreled but each thought that the other was the most disagreeable person in the universe; and as we each knew what the other thought, it may be imagined our intercourse was not of a very cordial kind.

I did see to the luggage, and then took tickets for the party for the York Express by the Great Northern Railway.

Fortunately we had a compartment to ourselves, that is, Mrs. Webster, my niece Clara, and myself.

“Clara, my dear, you look as ill as you can look, no one would think that to-morrow was your wedding-day.”

“Do I look ill, mamma?” said Clara, dreamily.

“Yes, my dear, and wretched too. I wonder you’ve not more sense at your age, a girl of twenty-five, and breaking her heart for love of a man who for four years has taken not the slightest notice of you.”

“Why, it was one of the conditions, Mrs. Webster, that he should not write,” I exclaimed.

Clara said nothing, but looked her thanks at her old uncle.

“However, Uncle Joseph, he ought to have come back and taken his dismissal quietly. I have no patience with these poor men blighting a girl’s chance of getting well settled in life in this way; however, thank Goodness, it’s all over now, the four years are gone this three months, and tomorrow you will be the happy wife of a man whose age will command your respect, and whose position will secure you every comfort.”

“And one, mamma,… Read More