“What will your poor mother say?” moaned Cousin Georgiana.
“Come along with me and hear, if you want to know,” said Valancy. “I’m on my way to tell her now.”
Cousin Georgiana let go the gate-post cautiously and found that she could stand alone. She meekly trotted on beside Valancy—who suddenly seemed quite a different person in her eyes. Cousin Georgiana had a tremendous respect for a married woman. But it was terrible to think of what the poor girl had done. So rash. So reckless. Of course Valancy must be stark mad. But she seemed so happy in her madness that Cousin Georgiana had a momentary conviction that it would be a pity if the clan tried to scold her back to sanity. She had never seen that look in Valancy’s eyes before. But what would Amelia say? And Ben?
“To marry a man you know nothing about,” thought Cousin Georgiana aloud.
“I know more about him than I know of Edward Beck,” said Valancy.
“Edward Beck goes to church,” said Cousin Georgiana. “Does Bar—does your husband?”
“He has promised that he will go with me on fine Sundays,” said Valancy.
When they turned in at the Stirling gate Valancy gave an exclamation of surprise.
“Look at my rosebush! Why, it’s blooming!”
It was. Covered with blossoms. Great, crimson, velvety blossoms. Fragrant. Glowing. Wonderful.