thinking of it: if ever I make my fortune now, it will be with a dog in a string, and a hat in his mouth.'
'But go on, Lionel; are the debts so very bad?'
'I believe they are indeed, and no one knows the worst of them yet. No wonder Elliot was off to Paris in such a hurry, like a coward as he is, no one knows how he is ever to come back! And worst of all is to have mamma going about saying 'tis Caroline's fault! Hadn't I rather come to the hat and dog in good earnest than to see her marry that man? Why, Marian, he is actually engaged to Miss Dashwood! What do you say to that? To the Radical Dashwood's daughter that behaved so shamefully to papa!'
'The daughter?'
'No, the man. Fit company for the apostate, isn't it? He had better have begun with her. Fine love his must have been. Only six weeks. Should not that cure Caroline?'
'Has she heard it?'
'No, we have only known it since she was ill, and Clara thought she had better not tell her.'
'Very right of Clara,' said Marian; 'but I think she will be glad, when she is well enough to be told.'
Fast and eagerly did Marian and Lionel talk all the way, sometimes gravely and sorrowfully about Elliot and Caroline, sometimes cheerfully about Fern Torr, Edmund, and Gerald, of whom Lionel wanted much to hear. He clapped his hands, and danced himself up and down with ecstasy at the history of Gerald's embellishments of the plans, vowed that Gerald was a Trojan, and that it was as good as Beauty and the Beast, and seemed to be enjoying a perfect holiday in having some one to speak to again. 'But,' he said, 'what a horrid bore it must have been to you to come away!'
'I thought I might be some help to Clara.'
'Did she make you think Caroline so very ill? Mr. Wells says it is only a very bad cold. But I am very glad you are come.'
Clara met Marian in the hall. 'O Marian, I am glad you are come, but I am sorry you came home in such a hurry. Mamma says there was no occasion, and that I need not have frightened you, for it is only a bad attack of influenza.'
'Then I hope Caroline Is better.'
'Yes, rather, and she will be so glad to see you. Come to her at once, won't you? she heard the carriage, and is watching for you.'
Marian hastily followed Clara to Caroline's room. In a few seconds both Caroline's arms were thrown round her neck, and a burning feverish face pressed to hers, then as she raised herself again, one of her hands still held fast, and Caroline lay looking up to her with an expression of relief and comfort. 'Thank you,' she murmured, in a hoarse low painful whisper, the sound of which gave an impression of dismay to Marian. Caroline was far worse than she had been prepared to sec her. That loud, oppressed, gasping breathing, the burning fever of hands and cheek, the parched lips,--this was far more than ordinary influenza. Marian stood watching her a little while; speaking now and then, until she closed her eyes in weariness, not for sleep, when she was about to leave the room, but Caroline looked up again anxiously and restlessly, and tried to say, 'Come back.'
'Yes, I'll come in a moment,' said Marian, 'I'll only just take off my bonnet, and go and see Mrs. Lyddell, if I may.'
'O, yes, she is up, she knows you are come,' said Clara, and Marian was presently knocking at Mrs. Lyddell's door.
She found her sitting by the fire in a large easy chair, in her dressing-gown and shawl, and was surprised at the first sight of her too, for that very weakening complaint, the influenza, had made a great change in her, perhaps assisted by all that she had gone through during the last summer and autumn, beginning with the parting with John, the grief and anxiety for Lionel, the disappointment and warfare with Caroline, and worse than all, the discoveries respecting her eldest and favourite son. She looked a dozen years older, all the clearness of her complexion was gone, and the colouring that remained, as if ingrained,
