greet cousin Edmund, and she feared he would think she neglected him, yet she could not, in Clara's presence, leave a message for him with her brother. Gerald begged her to remain, but she replied, with, a short, blunt 'I can't,' and set off with Clara, feeling provoked with everybody. In process of time she recovered candour enough to acknowledge to herself that Mrs. Lyddell was right as far as Clara was concerned, but the struggle kept her silent, her cousin thought her sulky, and the walk was not agreeable.
Gerald did not as usual attend her toilette, but as she passed along the passage on her way to the schoolroom, she heard sounds in the hall so like home that her heart bounded, Gerald's voice and Edmund's in reply! She could not help opening the door which separated the grand staircase from the schoolroom passage, the voice sounded plainer, she looked over the balusters, and saw--yes, actually saw Edmund, the top of his black head was just below her. Should she call? Should she run half-way down stairs, and just exchange one greeting unrestrainedly? But no; her heart beat so fast as to take away her breath, and that gave her time for recollection: Mrs. Lyddell might not think it proper, it would be meeting him in an underhand way, and that would never do!
Marian turned back, shut the door of communication, and in the next moment was in the schoolroom. When Gerald came up to tea, he was in the wildest spirit; making fun, romping with Lionel and John, and putting everything in such an uproar that it was quite a relief when the time came for going down to the drawing-room.
Now, Marian's great fear was that the gentlemen would be cruel enough to stay in the dining-room till after half-past nine, when she would be obliged to go to bed. She could hardly speak to anybody, she shrank away, as near the door as she dared, and half sprang up every time it opened, then sat down ashamed of herself, and disappointed to see only the servants with coffee and tea.
At last, the fatal time had all but come, when the black figures of the gentlemen entered one after the other, Marian scarcely venturing to look at them, and overpowered with a double access of fright and shyness, which chained her to her seat, and her eyes to the ground. But now--Edmund's hand was grasping hers, Edmund was by her side, his voice was saying, 'Well, Marian, how are you?'
She looked up at him for one moment, then on the ground again, without speaking.
'Oakworthy has put no colour in your cheeks,' said he. 'Are you quite well?'
'Quite, thank you,' said she, almost as shortly and coldly as if she had been answering Mrs. Lyddell.
'When did you hear from home?'
'Yesterday,' said she, speaking more readily. 'Agnes always writes once a week. When do you go there?'
'Next week, when I leave this place.'
'You come from the Marchmonts, don't you?'
'Yes, Selina sends you her love, and all manner of kind messages. She hopes to see you in London after Easter.'
'O dear! There is Mrs. Lyddell looking at me, and I see Caroline is gone! Good night, Edmund.'
'So soon? I hoped to have seen more of you to-day; I came early on purpose.'
'I thought so, but they would not let me stay at home.'
'I understand. Don't squeeze up your lips and look woeful. I knew how it was. Good night.'
Marian walked slowly up stairs, sighing as she went, and looked into Gerald's room. He was awake, and called out, 'Well, Marian, are you not glad he has come?'
'O yes, very,' returned Marian, in a tone of little gladness; 'I hope you will be very happy with him.'
