"After Lent, I believe," said the Doctor,—"They that marry in Lent will live to repent."
"Why so?" says Lady Betty.
"Nay, Madam, ask your Chaplain. I suppose People should not be feasting when they ought to be fasting."
"Ah, that's it, no Doubt," says Lady Betty—"Let us have Tea now, Gatty; and Plenty of Genoa Macaroons."
The next Time I went up Stairs, which was not till after Dark, they were all playing at Brag.
As I went down, a sudden Blast of Wind from the front Door of the House blew my Candle out, and I groped along into the Shop, muttering, "Who on Earth can be standing in the Draught such a cold Night as this?" At the same Moment I caught a Glimpse of a Couple of dusky Figures standing in the Doorway, and heard, in earnest Under-tones, the Words, "Gatty! is that you?" "Mr. Heavitree! can it be you? What in the World can have brought you here, and at this Time of Night?"—"To be with you, dearest Gatty, in case of your being alarmed, and—and—in case of Anything happening...."
I would not overhear another Word, but went straight into the Parlour and lit my Candle, saying quietly to my Mother, "There's Mr. Heavitree outside, talking to Gatty."
"Have him in!" cries my Father, whose Ears were quicker than I thought, "I want to see what the young Chap is like."—"Hush, Father, he'll overhear you—Maybe he will prefer saying a few Words to Gatty by herself first." "Very likely, very likely," says my Father chuckling—"but I hope he won't go away without coming in, for all that."
I now thought I might go out again with the Candle, and set it in the Shop; but the Current of Air from the Door again nearly blew it out, though I screened it with my Hand. The Stream of Light fell upon Gatty, who turned about and said, "Patty, here's an old Acquaintance,—I'm sure I may ask him in, may not I?" "And welcome," said I. "I am almost too dirty to be seen," says Mr. Heavitree, coming in. "Why, you are all muddy from Head to Foot," cries Gatty, "What can you have been doing?"