'And his sister! Her dress! What study it must have taken! In the extreme of fashion.'
'Caroline's dress is not exactly what she would choose herself,' said Marian.
'That must be only an excuse, Marian; for though you have a well-turned-out look, it is not as if you were in a book of fashions.'
'I am not Mrs. Lyddell's daughter, and though I do expect a battle or two when I come out, it will not be a matter of obedience with me, as it is with Caroline.'
'Is it very painful obedience?' said Agnes laughingly; 'well, you do deserve credit for not being spoilt among such people.'
'In the first place, how do you know they are 'such people?' and next, how do you know I am not spoilt?'
'You must be the greatest hypocrite in the world, if you are spoilt, to write me such letters, and sit so boldly looking me in the face. And as to their being 'such people,' have not I seen them, have not I heard them, and, above all, has not Mr. Arundel given me their full description?'
'But that was three years and a half ago,' said Marian.
'And have they changed since then?' asked Agnes.
'I don't know.'
'O how glad I am to hear that!' cried Agnes. 'Never mind them; but to hear you say 'I don't know' in that old considering tone is proof enough to me that you are my own old Marian, which is all I care for.'
'I don't--' began Marian; then stopping short and laughing, she added, 'I mean I was thinking whether it is really so. Can any person live four years without changing? Especially at our age. What a little girl I was then!'
'Yes, to be sure, you have grown into a tall--yes, quite a tall woman, and you have got your black hair into a very pretty broad braid, and you wear a bracelet and carry a parasol, and don't let your veil stream down your back; I don't see much more alteration. Your eyes are as black and your face as white, and altogether you are quite as provoking as ever in never telling one anything that one wishes to know.'
Marian gave a stiff smile, one which she had learnt in company, and grew frightened at herself to find that she was treating Agnes, as she treated the outer world. She did not know what to say; her love was deep, strong and warm within, but it was too soon to 'rend the silken veil;' and this awkwardness, this consciousness of coldness was positive suffering. She was relieved that the return of Mr. and Mrs. Wortley put an end to the _tete-a-tete_, then shocked that it should be a relief; for, poor girl, her extreme embarrassment overpowering the happiness in her friend's presence, made her doubt whether it could be that her affection was really departing, a thought too dreadful to be dwelt upon.
Who would have told her that she should endure so much pain in her first drive with the Wortleys?
They went to call on Lady Marchmont that day, and, as Marian expected, did not find her at home. Agnes renewed the old lamentation that Marian could not live with her and thus avoid Mrs. Lyddell's finery and fashion. 'Now why do you laugh, Marian? you don't mean that Selina Grenville can have turned into a fashionable lady? she was the simplest creature in the world.'
'She is what she was then,' said Marian; 'but as to being fashionable--. My dear Agnes, you don't understand.'
'We have not to reproach Marian for want of knowledge of the world now, Agnes,' said Mr. Wortley, smiling at his daughter's bewildered look.
'Ah!' cried Marian, and there stopped, thinking how grievously she must be altered, since this was the reproach that the Lyddells used so often to make her. Some wonderful sight here engaged Agnes, and Marian's exclamation fell unheeded.
