As they rose to leave the dining room, he came to her, saying, "Marian, can you have a walk with me?"
"Oh, yes, I should like it of all things; I will be ready in one minute." And away she bounded, saying to Caroline, in the boldest and most innocent manner in the world, as if on purpose to show that she expected nothing, and would not be laughed at, that Edmund had asked her to walk with him. He waited for her in the hall, and they went out, she scarcely pausing till they were on the steps, to say, "Well, how did you get on with Gerald? I am sure you made him very happy."
"We got on famously. He is a very nice fellow; he only wanted a little stimulus the right way. He is thoroughly open and candid, and I have no fear but that he will do very well."
Marian could not speak for joy, and for gratitude to her cousin; and her heart throbbing with delight, she walked on, waiting for him to say something more on this most precious of all tidings. But when he spoke again, it was if he had done with the subject of Gerald. "Marian, I have something to tell you," He paused--she stood in suspense--he began again. "Marian, I am going to be married!"
"O!" and the inquiring, joyful, wondering, confident tone of that O, is what nothing can ever convey. Her eyes were turned full on him with the same eager curiosity, the same certainty, that he could not do other than the best. He did not speak; but the half smile on his lip was a full though mute reply to her confidence, that she had only to hear, in order to rejoice with all her heart; and he held out a note directed to her, in Agnes' writing!
Marian took it, but she was too wild, too delighted, too eager to look at him, and hear him, to be able to open it. "O Edmund!" was what she said now, and she caught hold of his hand for an ecstatic shake.
"Yes, thank you, yes. I said I must tell you myself, Marian--my sister."
"O, I never heard anything more delightful in my life," said Marian, with a sort of gasp, as soon as the overwhelming delight gave her breath. "O, Edmund, Edmund!"
"You have not read her note yet."
Marian tore it open, but there was scarcely any thing to read; it was only--
"Dearest Marian,--He will have a note to carry you, but I can't say anything for bewilderment. I know he will tell you all about it, so it is of no use my writing. Are not you sorry he should have a wife so far from good enough for him?
"Your affectionate and most amazed
"AGNES."
Marian held it up to him, smiling. "But of course you have seen it?"
"No, I have not; I suppose she thought I should not carry such nonsense."
"Well, I am sure there is no other person in all the wide world that I could have thought good enough for you. Agnes! Agnes! O, Edmund, I wish there was any way of not being quite choked with gladness!"
Edmund smiled, and perhaps he was "choked with gladness" beyond the power of speech; for the two cousins only proceeded to shake hands again. The next thing that was said was after an interval. "Marian, you remember our bargain six years ago? Have you grown so very fond of the Lyddells as to repent of it?"
"O, Edmund, you have not thought of that?"
"Have not we? It was one of the first things we did think of."
"I don't think I can bear to hear of much more happiness," said Marian, in almost a crying voice. "I am so glad for you that I can't be glad for myself yet. I can't take it all in; it is too good to be true!"
"Indeed it does seem so. But you agree? Agnes said I must make you agree first of all."
"Don't I? Only I want to enjoy it for you,--it is so beyond everything!"
"Well, wasn't I a wise man to say I would not miss the pleasure of telling you myself?"
"Then do tell me; do let us be rational, if we can. Then you came here from Fern Torr?"
"Yes. Did you not know that?"
"No. I did not hear where you wrote from. How long were you there?"
"I only went on Wednesday."
"Then it was only one whole day! How much you must have had to settle!"
"So much, that we settled scarcely anything."
"Then you don't know when it is to be?"
"No, and Mrs. Wortley talks of having time,--poor Mrs. Wortley, but I don't think I shall take her away far; I have some notion of looking out for some place close at hand."
"Just what we settled long ago. But O! begin and tell me all, Edmund,--as much as you like to tell me, at least. I want to know how you first came to think of it." Then, as he smiled, she added, "I mean, how long you have been thinking of it."
"If you mean how long with any hope, only since I knew of good aunt Jessie's consideration for me. How long it has been in my mind I cannot tell; certainly before I went to Africa. You see, Marian," he continued, as if he was apologising, "it was this which made me think it advisable for me to go, though, as I see now, it was not at all good for Gerald."
"What,--you mean--I am not sure that I understand--"
"Don't you see, Marian, feeling as I did, and knowing how out of the question it was for a penniless man like me, to think of marrying,--Agnes so young too, and I with everything to draw me to what had been my only home,--there was nothing to be done but to keep out of the way, to guard me against myself; and that was easier with seas between. I don't know whether I did right or not, but I hoped I did, because it cost me something; yet it was a forsaking of Gerald which might have done much harm, though I hope it has not, as it has turned out."
"I see it all!" said Marian, resting there, because she had not a word with which to express her honour of his noble conduct.
"You will forgive me now," he added, with a smile, "for what you thought my neglect of home."
"I am only afraid I must often have given you a great deal of pain," she almost whispered.
"Never, except when I thought it right to silence you. It was only too delightful to hear their very names. You might well tell me that she had grown prettier than ever."
On talked and walked the cousins, over the downs, which had certainly never been trodden by happier people. At last they recollected that they must return, if they wished to be in time for the post, and retraced their steps, talking as eagerly as ever. As they were coming near the house, Marian said, "Does Gerald know?"
"Not yet; I shall write to him to-morrow."
"Is it to be a secret? Of course I should say nothing about it while you are here, but may I mention it afterwards?"
"They said nothing about secrecy," said Edmund; "in fact I think attempting it, only results in making one look foolish. Yes, you are welcome to tell whom you please as soon as I am out of the way. I had rather the Lyddells know."
"Very well; indeed, I don't think I can keep it to myself, it is too much joy."
"Do you expect them to participate in your pleasure at making your escape from them?"
"There is no one to miss me, except, perhaps, Lionel, a little, when his eyes are bad. Caroline would once have cared, but that is over now, poor thing! There never was a time when I should have been more glad to get away. O, Edmund, if you would do one thing to oblige me, it would be, to have your wedding the same day as Caroline's, that I might not be obliged to be at it."
"At which?"
"O, you know!"
"Is it such a very bad affair?"
"O, I am very much grieved about it. The man has no religion at all, you know; at least, if he has any, it is all natural religion,--anything but the truth."