Each cousin then knocked at the door of
her mistress. Laura was not in her room,
and Sally went to seek her below stairs; but
Isabel called to Fanny to go in.

Fanny obeyed, and walking forward a few
steps, faltered out, with many blushes, that
as young Thomas had kept company with
her for nearly a twelvemonth, and had taken
and furnished a little cottage, and begged
hard to take her home to it. She was sorry
to say, that if Miss Isabel would give her
leave, she wished to give warning and to go
from her service in a month.

Fanny's most sanguine wishes or fears,
must have been surpassed by the burst of
surprise and grief that followed her modest
statement. Isabel reproached her; refused
to take her warning; declared she would
never see her again if she left the Hall, and
that rather than be served by any but her
dear Fanny, she would wait upon herself all
her life. Fanny expostulated, and told her
mistress that, foreseeing her unwillingness
to lose her, she had already put Thomas off
several months; and that at last, to gain
further delay, she had run the risk of appearing
selfish, by refusing to marry him till he
had furnished a whole cottage for her. This,
she said he had—by working late and early—
accomplished in a surprisingly short time, and
had the day before, claimed the reward of his
industry. "And now, Miss," added she, "he
gets quite pale, and begins to believe I do
not love him, and yet I do, better than all the
world, and could not find it in my heart to
vex him, and make him look sad again.
Yesterday he seemed so happy, when I
promised to be his wife in a month." Here
Fanny burst into tears. Her sobs softened
Isabel, who consented to let her go; and
after talking over her plans, became as
enthusiastic in promoting, as she had at first
been, in opposing them. Thomas was to take
Fanny over to see the cottage, that evening,
and Isabel, in the warmth of her heart,
promised to accompany them. Fanny thanked
her with a curtesy, and thought how pleased
she ought to be at such condescension in her
young mistress, but could not help fearing
that her sweetheart would not half appreciate
the favour.

After receiving many promises of friendship
and assistance, Fanny hastened to report
to Sally the success of her negotiation. Sally
was sitting in their little bedroom, thoughtful,
and almost sad. She listened to Fanny's
account; and replied in answer to her
questions concerning Miss Laura's way of taking her
warning, "I am afraid, Fanny, you were right
in thinking yourself the greatest favourite,
for Miss Laura seemed almost pleased at my
news; she shook me by the hand, and said,
'I am very glad to hear you are to marry
such a good young man as everyone
acknowledges John Maythorn to be, and you may
depend upon my being always ready to help
you, if you want assistance.' She then said a
deal about my having lived with her six
years, and not having once displeased her,
and told me that master had promised my
mother and yours too, that his young ladies
should see after us all our lives. This was
very kind, to be sure; but then Miss Isabel
promised you presents whether you wanted
assistance or not, and is to give you a silk gown
and a white ribbon for the wedding, and is to
go over to the cottage with you: now Miss
Laura did not say a word of any such thing."

Fanny tried to comfort her cousin by saying
it was Miss Laura's quiet way; but she
could not help secretly rejoicing that her own
mistress was so generous and affectionate.

In the evening the two sweethearts came
to lead their future wives to the cottages,
which were near each other, and at about a
mile from the Hall. John had a happy walk.
He learned from Sally that he was to "take
her home" in a month, and was so pleased
at the news, that he could scarcely be happier
when she bustled about, exclaiming at every
new sight in the pretty bright little cottage.
The tea-caddy, the cupboard of china, and a
large cat, each called forth a fresh burst of
joy. Sally thought everything "the
prettiest she had ever seen;" and when John
made her sit in the arm-chair and put her
foot on the fender, as if she were already
mistress of the cottage, she burst into sobs of
joy. We will not pause to tell how her sobs
were stopped, nor what promises of
unchanging kindness, were made in that bright
little kitchen; but we may safely affirm that
Sally and John were happier than they had
ever been in their lives, and that old Mrs.
Maythorn, who was keeping the cottage for
Sally, felt all her fondest wishes were fulfilled
as she saw the two lovers depart.

Fanny and Thomas, who had left them at
the cottage door, walked on to their own
future home, quite overwhelmed by the
honour Miss Isabel was conferring on them
by walking at their side.

"You see, Miss," said Thomas, as he
turned the key of his cottage-door, "there
is nothing to speak of here, only such things
as are necessary, and all of the plainest; but
it will do well enough for us poor folks:"
and as he threw open the door, he found to
his surprise that what had seemed to him
yesterday so pretty and neat, now looked
indeed "all of the plainest." The very carpet,
and metal teapot, which he had intended as
surprises for Fanny, he was now ashamed of
pointing out to her, and he apologised to
Isabel for the coarse quality of the former,
telling her it was only to serve till he could
get a better.

"Yes," answered she, "this is not half
good enough for my little Fanny, she must
have a real Brussels carpet. I will send her
one, I will make your cottage so pretty,
Fanny, you shall have a nice china tea set,
not these common little things, and I will
give you some curtains for the window."