'"And pray, why should he not want to marry me?" said I, drawing myself up to my full height. "But, of course, one cannot expect a child of your age to understand anything about it; so I was wrong to expect it." And I walked away, with what I then thought an exact imitation of mamma's most dignified manner, imagining that Oliver must be completely crushed by this cutting reply. But he only laughed (it is impossible to put Oliver out of temper) and said:
'"Come, Fan, you needn't be quite so scornful. Of course I want to hear all about it. Who is the Earl Desmond? Not that gentleman who came here to-day, surely?"
'"No," said I, slightly softened, but still, I am afraid, rather patronizing; "he is a boy a year or two older than I am, Oliver—about fourteen, I believe."
'"You don't mean it?" cried he, very much excited. "I fancied he was grown-up. Is he coming here? will he live here? Oh Frances! I always did wish you were a boy; but of course, if you marry this Earl of Desmond, he will be my brother. I always did want another brother, Miles and Roger are so little. By the by, what is his name?"
'I did not know; and Oliver went on with a string of questions, all relating to my future husband, not one of which was I able to answer; for, to say the truth, though my head had been full of my marriage ever since I had heard of it, the bridegroom himself had hardly entered into my thoughts at all.
'"Why, Fan, how stupid of you!" cried Oliver at last, after listening to about a dozen "don't knows" in succession. "You don't seem to know anything. I can't think why you did not ask mamma more questions while you were about it. Girls are generally curious enough at any rate about other people's business. You might at least have found out whether he is to come here, or whether you are to go and live in his house. I declare I shall ask mamma myself to-night."
'"No, Oliver; indeed you had much better not. Do you know I think mamma is very unhappy about it?"
'"Unhappy! Then, of course, that must be because you are going away."
'"No, I don't know; but I have an idea that I am not going away, because, from what mamma said just now——"
'"Well, what did she say? Come, dear old Fan, you always tell me everything." And Oliver put his arm round my neck and pulled me down on a stone trough by the edge of the horse-pond—not the kind of seat, I think, that nurse would have chosen for the future Countess of Desmond, especially when that young lady had on her quilted scarlet kirtle and new silver-grey gown, worked with wheat and poppies. When Oliver rubbed his curly, yellow head against my cheek and called me "dear old Fan," I never could resist him, even when I was really out of humour; so, giving up the grand airs that I had been trying to assume, I sat by his side on the horse-trough and told him all that mamma had been saying about teaching me to love, honour, and obey my husband, and about my being called upon some day to fulfil the promises which I should make at my marriage.