Chapter VIII.
'Too soon the happy child
His nook of homeward thought will change;
For life's seducing wild;
Too son his altered day-dreams show
This earth a boundless space,
With sunbright pleasures to and fro,
Coursing in joyous race.'
CHRISTIAN YEAR.
A couple of weeks had passed away, and Marian was beginning to feel rather more accustomed to the absence of Gerald and Lionel, and to find pleasure in the letters which spoke of her brother taking a good place, and from which it did not appear that he disliked school so much as she had feared. Still she could not but miss him grievously, and feel the want of some one to cling to her, bring his troubles to her, and watch for moments of private conference. Her days seemed to follow each other without animation or interest; and if it had not been for some of her lessons, and for his letters and Agnes Wortley's, she felt as if she could have done nothing but yawn till the holidays.
One day, as the young ladies were returning from a walk in the park, they saw a carriage standing at their own door,--too frequent an occurrence, as Marian thought, to call for such warm interest as Clara expressed. Yet even Marian grew eager when she heard her cousins exclaim that there was a coronet on it,--a Viscount's coronet. They were now close to the house, just about to ring, when the door opened, the visitor came out, and at that moment Marian sprang forward with a joyful face, but without a word. The lady held out both hands, and standing on the top of the steps of the door, she drew Marian up to her, and kissed her on each cheek with great eagerness, completely regardless of the spectators.
'Marian, dear little Marian herself! I was afraid I had quite missed you, though I waited as long as I could. You look like your own self, little pale cheeks! Well, I must not stay; I have arranged with Mrs. Lyddell for you to spend to-morrow with me. I will send the carriage for you, and you know how much I have to show you--my husband and my son! You will come, Marian? Not a word? Ah! your own way. Good-bye; you will find your tongue to-morrow. Good-bye.'
She let go the hands and sprang into the carriage, giving a smile and nod as she drove off, that filled Marian's soul, almost to overflowing, with a rush of memories. It was as if she was no longer standing on the hard steps, with black streets, and tall, dingy yellow houses bounding her view, and carriages thundering in her ears; no longer lonely among numbers, but as if she was on the bright green grass-plat by the Manor-House door, the myrtles and sycamore nodding round her; the shadows of the clouds chasing each other in purple spots over the moors; her father at the window; her mother, Gerald, Edmund, Agnes, all standing round; that sweet voice, with, that same bright smile, that same arch little nod, repeating the 'good-bye,' and speaking of meeting next year; and Marian herself thinking how very long a year would be. And now two years had passed since that time, and such years! How much older Marian felt! But there was Selina--Selina herself, not the Beauty--that was enough for joy!
Marian was roused from her dream by exclamations of delight and admiration from her cousins, 'How very beautiful!' 'O, I never saw anything so lovely!' 'Marian, how could you say that she was not like her picture?'
'I don't know,' said Marian, gradually waking from her trance.
'Don't you think her the most beautiful creature you ever saw?'
'I don't know.'
'Don't know!' cried Caroline, impatiently. 'Do you know whether your head is on or not?'
'I don't--nonsense,' said Marian, laughing heartily, 'The fact was, I never had time to look or think whether she was pretty; I only saw she was just like herself.'
'Well, Marian; so you met her?' said Mrs. Lyddell's voice in its most delighted tone, at the top of the stairs. 'I never saw a more charming person. So very handsome, and so elegant, and so very agreeable. You have heard of her invitation?'
'Yes; thank you for letting me go,' said Marian.
