"So, sir, you're come at last, I thought you'd come no more,
I've waited with my bonnet on from one till half-past four!
You know I sit alone—"
At that moment, Edmund himself was seen advancing from the door; the song ended in a scream of laughter and dismay, and the window was hastily shut. Edmund smiled a little, but very little, and said, "True enough, I am afraid I have used you very ill."
"Tiresome affairs," said Marian, looking up into his harassed face. "I hope they have not made your head ache?"
"I have been worried, but it is not the fault of the affairs, I wish you had not lost your walk," added he abruptly, beginning to stride on so fast that she could scarcely keep up with him, and apparently forgetting her presence entirely in his own engrossing thoughts. She watched him intently as she toiled to keep by his side, longing, but not daring, to inquire what was the matter. At last he broke out into a muttered exclamation, "destitute of all principle! all labour in vain!"
"What—how—Mr. Lyddell?"
"This whole day have I been at it, trying to bring him to reason about that farm!"
"What? Did he wish the Dissenter to have it?"
"He saw no objection—treated all I said as the merest moonshine!"
"What? all the annoyance to the Wortleys, and the mischief to the poor people!" exclaimed Marian, "Why, we should have a meeting-house!"
"Nothing more likely, in the Manor field, and fifty pounds subscribed—all for the sake of toleration and Gerald's interests."