'Impossible.'
'Well, I will not strengthen your prejudices by contending with them.'
'Prejudice! to say that I can never be as happy anywhere as at my own dear home! To say that I cannot bear strangers!'
'If they were to remain strangers for all the years that you are likely to spend with them, there might be something in that. But I see you cannot bear to be told that you can ever be happy again, so I will not say so any more, especially as I must finish my letters.'
'And I will try to write mine,' said Marian with a sigh, as she reached the door, and went up to take off her bonnet.
Edmund lingered for a moment in the hall, and there was met by Mrs. Wortley, who said she was glad to see that he had been out, for he was looking pale and harassed. 'I did not go out for any pleasant purpose,' said he. 'I had to pronounce sentence on poor Marian.'
'Is it finally settled?' said Mrs. Wortley. 'We still had hopes of keeping her.'
'Sir Gerald and Miss Arundel are of too much distinction in Mr. Lyddell's eyes to be left to their best friends,' said Edmund. 'It was hard to persuade him not to take possession directly, on the plea of change being good for their spirits.'
'It is very kind of you to put off the evil day,' said Mrs. Wortley; 'it will be a grievous parting for poor Agnes.'
'A grievous business for every one,' said Edmund.
'How? Do not you think well of Mr. and Mrs. Lyddell?'
'I know my uncle never thought of these poor children's living with them. He thought Mr. Lyddell a good man of business, but neither he nor my aunt ever dreamed of such a home for them.'
'Would they have preferred Lady Marchmont's? Marian is very fond of her, and was much gratified by a very nice affectionate letter that she received this morning.'
'Yes, but I am glad she is out of the question. It is offering a great deal both on her part and her husband's to take charge of these two, but it would never do. She is almost a child herself,--a bride and beauty under twenty,--excessively admired, very likely to have her head turned. No, it would be too absurd. All her kindness, amiability, desire to make Marian her friend and companion, would only serve to do harm.'
'Yes, you are right; yet I cannot help half wishing it could be, if it was only to save poor Marian her terrors of going among strangers.'
'I know exactly how it will be,' said Edmund. 'She will shut herself up in a double proof case of shyness and reserve. They will never understand her, nor she them.'
'But that cannot go on for ever.'
'No; and perhaps it might be better if it could.'
'Well, but do you really know anything against them? He seems inclined to be very kind and considerate.'
'Electioneering courtesy,' said Edmund. 'But now you begin to question me, I cannot say that my--my mistrust shall I call it--or aversion? is much better founded than the prejudices I have been scolding poor Marian for. Perhaps it is only that I am jealous of them, and cannot think any one out of Fern Torr worthy to bring up my uncle's children. All I know of them is, that Mrs. Lyddell was heiress to a rich banker, she goes out a good deal in London, and the only time that I met her I thought her clever and agreeable. In their own county I believe she is just what a popular member's wife should be--I don't mean popular in the sense of radical. I think I have heard too something about the eldest son not turning out well; but altogether, you see, I have not grounds enough to justify any opposition to their desire of having the children.'
'How are they as to Church principles?'
