“The suspicion is gone; the displeasure is gone; the doubts are gone; and now there is nothing—nothing but the lameness and the poverty; and if you like the old cinder, Colin, that is your concern;” and she hid her face, with a sort of sobbing laugh.
“And even the haste; you consent to that?”
“I don’t feel it like haste,” she said, looking up with a smile, and then crimsoning.
“And Ailie gives leave, and thinks the hurry will not harm you?”
“Ailie! O Colin, did you think I could tell any one of your letter, before you had had your answer?”
“Then Edward is not so moonstruck as I thought him! And when shall it be, dearest? Give me as much time as you can. I must go back this day fortnight.”
“I suppose your expectations are not high in the matter of finery,” said Ermine, with a certain archness of voice.
“Those eyes are all the finery I ever see.”
“Then if you will not be scandalized at my natural Sunday dress, I don’t see why this day week should not do as well as any other time.”
“Ermine, you are the only woman I ever met totally free from nonsense.”