Frederic made no answer, for his eyes were fixed intently upon the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of one who was fast becoming an object of interest even to him. But he looked in vain, for Marian had not yet risen. Pale, weary and weak, she reclined among her pillows, her fair hair falling about her face in beautiful disorder, and her eyes turned also toward the window, not because she knew that Frederic was looking in that direction, but because the morning sun was shining there, and she was watching it as it danced upon the curtain of bright crimson.
“I have seen the suns of twenty years,” she thought, “and I am growing old so fast. I wonder if Frederic would know me now.”
At this moment, Mrs. Sheldon came in, and advancing toward the window, looked down into the street. Catching a view of her brother and his friend, she exclaimed:
“Frederic Raymond! I wonder when he came?”
“What? Where? Who is it?” Marian asked, quickly, at the same time raising herself upon her elbow, and looking wistfully in the direction Frederic had gone.
“Mr. Raymond, Will’s friend, from Kentucky,” returned Mrs. Sheldon. “He must have come last night?” and as little Fred just then called to her from without, she left the room.
When she was alone, Marian buried her face in the bed-clothes, and murmured:
“Oh, if I could only see him! I long so to test his powers of recognition, and see if he would know me.”
She almost hoped he would, and claim her for his wife, as this, she fancied, might cure Will Gordon sooner than aught else which could be done. She was sure they would talk of her, for Frederic had bidden Will propose, and he would naturally ask the result of that proposal. Will would say she had refused him because she loved another, and would not something whisper to her husband that “the other” was himself—that Marian Grey was his Marian—the Marian of Redstone Hall—and he would come to her that very day, perhaps, and all the morning she waited anxiously for a step she was certain she would know, though it might not be as elastic and bounding as of old, ere she had trammeled it with a heavy weight. She listened nervously for its full, rich tones, asking for her, in the parlor below. But she listened in vain and the restless excitement brought on a severe headache, which rendered it impossible for her to leave the room, even if he came. This Mrs. Sheldon greatly lamented, for she had invited the young men to tea, and while accepting her invitation, Will had asked if Miss Grey would not be able to spend a part of the evening with them.
“She is to be Fred’s governess, you know,” he said, “and he naturally wishes to make her acquaintance.”