What more she heard or saw after that it would be extremely difficult to tell. Perhaps the best way of conveying an idea of it is to lay before the reader the short epistle which Fanny penned that same night to her old friend Katie Hall. It ran thus:—
“Ramsgate.
“Oh, Katie! Darling Katie!—He has done it at last! Dear fellow! And so like himself too—so romantically, so poetically! They were toasting the Lifeboat Institution at the time. He seized my hand. ‘Fanny,’ he said, in the deep manly tones in which he had just made the most brilliant speech of the evening, ‘Fanny, my love—my life—my lifeboat—will you have me? will you save me?’ There was a dreadful noise at the time—a very storm of cheering. The whole room seemed in a whirl. My head was in a whirl too; and oh! how my heart beat! I don’t know what I said. I fear I burst into a fit of laughter, and then cried, and dear uncle carried me out—but it’s all over now. That darling Lifeboat Institution, I shall never forget it; for they were sounding its praises at the very moment when my Queeker and I got into the same boat—for life!—Your happy Fanny.”
To this the next post brought the following reply:—
“Yarmouth.”
“My Dearest Fanny,—Is it necessary for me to say that your last short letter has filled my heart with joy? It has cleared up a mystery too! On Tuesday last, in the forenoon, Mr Queeker came by appointment to take lunch with us, and Stanley happened to mention that a supper was to be given to the Ramsgate lifeboat-men, and that he had heard you were to be there. During lunch, Mr Queeker was very absent and restless, and appeared to be unhappy. At last he started up, made some hurried apology about the train for the south, and having urgent business to transact, looked at his watch, and rushed out of the house! We could not understand it at the time, but I knew that he had only a few minutes left to catch the train for the south, and I now know that he caught it—and why! Ah, Fanny, did I not always assure you that he would do it in desperation at last! My earnest prayer is, that your wedded life may be as happy as mine has hitherto been.
“When your honeymoon is over, you must promise to pay us a visit. You know that our villa is sufficiently far out of town to warrant your regarding us in the light of country friends; and Stanley bids me say that he will take no denial. Papa—who is at present romping round the room with my eldest boy on his shoulders, so that I scarce know what I write—bids me tell you, with his kind love and hearty congratulations, that he thinks you are ‘not throwing yourself away, for that Queeker is a first-rate little fellow, and a rising man!’ Observe, please, that I quote papa’s own words.
“I must stop abruptly, because a tiny cry from the nursery informs me that King Baby is awake, and demands instant attention!—With kindest love and congratulations, your ever affectionate, Katie Hall.”