Amidst scenes where she was hourly reminded of the happy past, Marion delivered herself up to the pleasing consciousness of Richard's unalterable attachment. Though circumstances had now separated, and might keep them apart for months, she felt a steady assurance that their mutual attachment could never be shaken by either time or distance. In the solitude of her own heart, Marion hoarded up many cherished remembrances of what he had said, and how he had said it, while the most transient of Mr. Granville's remarks seemed indelibly imprinted on her recollection. She read the books he liked, practised the music he admired, traced out all his favorite walks, and lived with him as the continual companion of her thoughts.
Marion's was an unclouded sunshine of hope, as she confided so entirely in her absent lover, that she would quite as soon have distrusted her own heart as his; yet day after day, and week after week passed on, without a line ever reaching her from either Clara or Richard, and little did she dream, while suffering from the melancholy monotony of their long-continued silence, that letter after letter, written from heart to heart, with ardent affection and entire confidence, had been consigned to a premature end by the order and contrivance of Sir Patrick; but nevertheless, with all the ardor of a young and sanguine mind, she daily expected a satisfactory explanation, and still looked back upon the past with unembittered feelings.
Marion's was not a weak, wavering, suspicious, or fanciful nature, but high and generous in all things, she had not lightly confided her happiness to one on whom she could not implicitly rely. She knew his attachment to be one of principle as well as of inclination, and though uneasy lest Mr. Granville might be ill, she entertained no jealous apprehension that he had become changed, but perseveringly trusted, believed, and hoped the best. Many a time had Marion's heart throbbed, and her color risen with a tumult of hope, as she watched the return of Martin from the post-office, and the flutter of expectation faded sadly away in mournful disappointment, when she found that another day and night, at the very least, must be added to her long and weary disappointment; for no "hope deferr'd" makes the heart more sick, than vainly watching for a letter, in which the happiness of a life-time is involved.
"Out of sight out of mind!" said Agnes, sarcastically, one day, when she observed the look of surprise and anxiety with which Marion was leaving the room, alter seeing hoards of letters brought into the room from every quarter but the right one. "Marion! as Shakspeare says, 'No word from Goodman Dull yet?' That is just like men in general!"
"It may be like men in general, Agnes, but it is not like Richard," replied Marion, coloring and smiling. "On him I have the most consummate reliance. We can both depend on our perfect knowledge of each other, and I shall not break the long chain of our mutual faith by a single doubt. I have given him my confidence, and that was all I had to bestow."
"Well! as some sensible poet remarks, and I quite agree with him," said Agnes, with a peevish, discontented sigh—
"The maid that loves,
Goes out to sea upon a shattered plank,
And puts her trust in miracles for safety."
"No, Agnes! Those who have loved lightly may change as lightly, but I should little deserve the inestimable happiness of having known Mr. Granville so entirely, did I not always believe him above the suspicion of caprice. We have read each other's mind and heart, we have been willing to trust each other in life and till death; therefore now, unless Richard were to tell me with his own lips that he had changed, I would not believe it,—and scarcely even then! This alone is affection that deserves the name, not to torment him with distrust, nor to take up the first cause of offence, but with unenquiring confidence to judge him as I would myself be judged. It would add a pang to the sorrow of separation if we believed ourselves at the mercy of every idle suspicion; but I know his heart to be as incapable of deceit or dishonor as my own."