"I wonder you had not noticed that, Marian, when we went over the lodgings," pursued Mrs. Ashurst. "You're generally such a one to notice these kind of things, and I've been used to depend upon you, so that I think nothing about them. What shall we do about that? I suppose Mrs. Swainson would not be inclined to buy a cabinet--a second-hand one would do perfectly----"
"I don't think we need go into the question. We shall never go to Mrs. Swainson's lodgings!"
"No? What shall we do, then?"
"Remain here!"
"Well, my dear," said the old lady, "if you change your plans so often, how am I possibly to know where we're going, or what we're going to do? Not that I want to be consulted, but I really might as well be a chair or a table for the manner in which I am treated. I thought you said, not more than a fortnight ago, that it was impossible we could stop here any longer!"
"So I did, mother; but circumstances have changed since then. This morning, as we walked from church, Mr. Creswell asked me to become his wife."
"His wife! Mr. Creswell! you to--and you accepted him?"
"I did!"
The old lady fell back in her chair, her eyes closed, her hands fluttering nervously before her. Marian ran to her mother and knelt by her side, but Mrs. Ashurst revived almost immediately--revived sufficiently to place her hand round her daughter's neck and to whisper in her ear, "For my sake?"
"I don't understand you, dearest mother."