“You knew it, my dear child,” cried her mother in accents of extreme relief.
“Only this afternoon, from Bessie Keith.”
“And Fanny knew it all this time,” continued Mrs. Curtis. “I cannot imagine how she could keep it from me, but it seems Miss Williams was resolved it should not be known. Colonel Keith said he felt it was wrong to go on longer without mentioning it, and I could not but say that it would have been a great relief to have known it earlier.”
“As far as Fanny was concerned it would,” said Rachel, looking into the fire, but not without a sense of rehabilitating satisfaction, as the wistful looks and tone of her mother convinced her that this semi-delusion had not been confined to herself.
“I could not help being extremely sorry for him when he was telling me,” continued Mrs. Curtis, as much resolved against uttering the idea as Rachel herself could be. “It has been such a very long attachment, and now he says he has not yet been able to overcome her scruples about accepting him in her state. It is quite right of her, I can’t say but it is, but it is a very awkward situation.”
“I do not see that,” said Rachel, feeling the need of decision in order to reassure her mother; “it is very sad and distressing in some ways, but no one can look at Miss Williams without seeing that his return has done her a great deal of good; and whether they marry or not, one can only be full of admiration and respect for them.”
“Yes, yes,” faltered Mrs. Curtis; “only I must say I think it was due to us to have mentioned it sooner.”
“Not at all, mother. Fanny knew it, and it was nobody’s concern but hers. Pray am I to have Owen’s ‘Palaeontology’?”
“No, Colonel Keith bought that, and some more of the solid books. My dear, he is going to settle here; he tells me he has actually bought that house he and his brother are in.”
“Bought it!”