“What a strange fellow,” exclaimed Lewis, “that Norman must have been!”
“Strange!” said Mrs. Ross, “Yes, indeed, I should think he was. I know we had little peace in Merkland, before he came of age.”
“How he managed to make the country people all so fond of him,” continued Lewis, disregarding his mother’s interruption, “one can’t tell. And falling in love with a girl, of quite different rank. Altogether, it’s a strange story.”
“What was their name?” said Mrs. Ross. “I thought you said they lived in an old, great house, Lewis.”
“So they do,” said Lewis. “It is not their own, though.—They pay some nominal rent, and take care of the place. Their name—what is their name?—upon my word I don’t recollect. I don’t know that I ever heard the surname. I remember the sister was called Miss Christian: but James will know.”
“And you are sure they know nothing?” said Anne.
“Yes; at least the sister gave us no information, and the brother, as I told you, is a poor ailing creature—half crazy, the people say. He had saved an old man from drowning, shortly before we reached the place, and was very much elated about it.”
“And their sister?” said Anne.
“Their sister was a very gentle, sweet girl—so runs the story—and was much attached to Norman. The news of his flight was carried to her abruptly by some officious person, and the consequence was, that the poor girl broke her heart, and died. It is a very sad story. Alice seemed to be able for nothing but crying when I told her.”
Anne was ruminating in wonder and doubt—who then was the “Marion?” It was impossible that this truthful, upright Norman should have his troth plighted to two! Impossible that he could play one false! The doubt made her heart sink: the weight of one sin is so much heavier than the burden of a hundred misfortunes.