"Can't you guess?"
"I won't guess any more; perhaps Mrs Green."
"Oh, no; certainly not a widow. I don't like widows marrying. But of course you could guess if you would; of course it was Mary Thorne. But I soon saw Mary would not do, for two reasons; Caleb would never have liked her well enough nor would she ever have liked him."
"Not like him! oh I hope she will; I do so love Mary Thorne."
"So do I, dearly; and so does Caleb; but he could never have loved her as he loves you."
"But, Patience, have you told Mary?"
"No, I have told no one, and shall not without your leave."
"Ah, you must tell her. Tell it her with my best, and kindest, warmest love. Tell her how happy I am, and how I long to talk to her. Tell that I will have her for my bridesmaid. Oh! I do hope that before that all this horrid quarrel will be settled."
Patience undertook the commission, and did tell Mary; did give her also the message which Beatrice had sent. And Mary was rejoiced to hear it; for though, as Patience had said of her, she had never herself felt any inclination to fall in love with Mr Oriel, she believed him to be one in whose hands her friend's happiness would be secure. Then, by degrees, the conversation changed from the loves of Mr Oriel and Beatrice to the troubles of Frank Gresham and herself.
"She says, that let what will happen you shall be one of her bridesmaids."