'I don't know; somewhere with the boys,' said Marian, disconsolately.
'Well, why not?' said Edmund laughing.
'I don't know,' said Marian.
'That is a meditative 'I don't know,' which conveys more than meets the ear.'
'I don't know whether----; I mean I don't think it does Gerald any good.'
'It?--what?'
'I don't know,' repeated Marian in a tone which to any one else would have appeared sullen.
'I should like to arrive at your meaning, Marian. Are you not happy about Gerald!'
'I don't know,' said Marian; but Edmund, convinced that all was not right, was resolved to penetrate these determined professions of ignorance.
'Is Gerald under Miss Morley?' he asked.
'Yes, during most of the day. They all say he is very good.'
'And does not that satisfy you?'
'I don't know.'
Edmund perceived that the subject of her brother was too near her heart to be easily approached, and resolved to change his tone.
'How have you been getting on?' he asked. 'Does learning flourish under the present dynasty?'
'I don't know,' replied Marian for the seventh time, but she did not as usual stop there, and continued, 'they think one knows nothing unless one has learnt all manner of dates, and latitudes, and such things. Not one of them knew Orion when they saw him in the sky, and yet even Clara thought me dreadfully stupid because I could not find out on the globe the altitude of Beta in Serpentarius, at New Orleans, at three o'clock in the morning.'
Edmund could not help laughing at her half-complaining, half-humorous tone, and this encouraged her to proceed.
'In history they don't care whether a man is good or bad; they only care when he lived. O Edmund, the lists of names and dates, kings and Roman emperors----.'
'Metals, semi-metals, and distinguished philosophers,' said Edmund; and Marian, who in days of old had read 'Mansfield Park,' laughed as she used to do at home.
'Exactly,' said she, 'O, Edmund, it is very different learning from what it used to be. All lesson and no thinking, no explaining, no letting one make out more about the interesting places. I wanted the other day to look out in some history book to find whether Rinaldo in Tasso was a real man, but nobody would care about it; and as to the books, all the real good _grown-up_ ones are down in Mr. Lyddell's library, where no one can get at them.'
'Does not Miss Lyddell enter into these things?'
'O yes, Caroline does, a great deal more than Miss Morley; but I don't know--I never can get on with Caroline----.'
Marian had now gone on to the moment when her heart was ready to be open, and the whole story, so long laid up for Edmund, began to be poured forth; while he, anxious to hear all, and more sympathizing than he was willing to show himself, only put in a word or two here and there, so as to sustain the narration. Everything was told, how Clara
