Tom's death, so soon I mean—people might
say that it would have been better to have
waited till——"

"My dearest child, no waiting would
restore my poor boy to me; and I look to
you to fill the void in my heart which his
loss has made! As for people talking, I
have lived too long, child, to pay the
slightest heed to what they say! If such
gossip moved me one jot, it would rather
strengthen my wish to hasten our marriage,
as it supplies me with an argument which
you evidently have not perceived——"

"And that is?——"

"And that is, that, you may depend
upon it, these sticklers for the proprieties and
conventionalities, these worshippers of Mrs.
Grundy, will be very much interested in
our movements, and highly scandalised if,
under these fresh circumstances which they
have just learned, you remain an inmate of
my house!  What has been perfectly right
and decorous for the last few months would
be highly improper for the next few weeks,
according to their miserable doctrine! I
should not have named this to you, Marian,
had not the conversation taken this turn;
nor even then, had you been a silly girl and
likely to be influenced by such nonsense.
However much you might wish to go away
and live elsewhere until our marriage, you
cannot. Your mother's state of health
precludes any possibility of her removal, and
therefore the only thing for us to do is to
get the marriage over as quickly as
possible, and thus effectually silence Mrs.
Grundy's disciples!"

"Very well!" said Marian. "I suppose
for the same reason it will be better that
the wedding should be here?"

"Here? Why, my dearest Marian,
where would you wish it to be?"

"Oh, I should like us to go away to
some quiet little place where we were
neither of us known, and just walk into
the church——"

"And just smuggle through the ceremony
and slip away, so that no one should see you
were marrying a man old enough to be your
father! Is that it, pet? I ought to feel
highly complimented, and——"

"Please, not even in joke! No, no; you
know what I mean. I cannot explain it,
but——"

"I know exactly, darling, but we can't
help it. If you wish it the wedding shall
be perfectly quiet, only just ourselves, but
it must take place here, and I don't surpose
our good neighbours would let it pass off
without some demonstration of their regard,
whatever we might say to them! By the
way, I mentioned it to the girls this
morning!"

"And what did they say?" Marian
asked, with, for her, rather unusual
eagerness. "Or rather, what did Maud say,
for Gertrude, of course, merely echoed her
sister?"

"Poor Gerty!" said Mr. Creswell,
smiling; "hitherto she has not displayed
much originality. Oh, Maud was very
affectionate indeed, came over and kissed me,
and wished me all happiness. And, as
you say, of course, Gertrude did, and said,
ditto! Have they—have they said
anything to you?"

"Not a word! I have scarcely seen them
since yesterday."

"Ah! they'll take an opportunity of
coming to you. I know they are delighted
at anything which they think will conduce
to my happiness!"

"Perhaps they don't think that your
marrying me will have that effect?" said
Marian, with a half smile.

" 'Please, not even in joke!' it is my
turn to say that now!" said Mr. Creswell.

It was a perfect godsend to the people
of Helmingham, this news, and coming so
soon too—a few months interval was
comparatively nothing in the village—after the
excitement caused by young Tom's death.
They had never had the remotest idea that
Mr. Creswell would ever take to himself
a second wife; they had long since given
up the idea of speculating upon Marian
Ashurst's marriage prospects, and the
announcement was almost too much for them
to comprehend. Generally, the feeling was
one of satisfaction, for the old schoolmaster
and Mrs. Ashurst had both been popular
in the village, and there had been much
commiseration, expressed with more warmth
and honesty than good taste, when it
was murmured that the widow and Marian
would have to give up housekeeping—an
overwhelming degradation in the Helmingham
mind—and go into lodgings.  A little
alloy might have existed, in the fact that
no new element would be brought into
their society, no stranger making her first
appearance as the "squire's lady," to be
stared at on her first Sunday in church,
and discussed and talked over, after her
first round of visits. But this disappointment
was made up to Mrs. Croke, and
Mrs. Whicher, and others of their set, by
the triumph and vindication of their own
perspicuity and appreciation of character.