But Lilian was firm; and then Marian tried the effect of her persuasive powers upon Mrs Tipper.
'You really must, aunt. It would look worse for you to stop away than even for Lilian—my own aunt!'
But Mrs Tipper also shewed that it was not to be thought of; and Marian at length came to the conclusion that their refusal arose from their sense of the wrong done to Lilian's mother; though she was quite as much at a loss to account for that as for everything else we did.
'I don't see why you should be so put out about a thing which can't be helped. When it was thought that it was my Ma who had been taken in, I behaved sensibly about it; and why can't Lilian and you do the same?'
Great preparation were being made for the event; and a great deal of company—'Caroline's' friends—was constantly at Fairview. Rumours reached us that the bridegroom expectant was not in very good health; indeed it was said that the marriage was being hastened on that account, a change of climate having been recommended for a while.
I saw him once only before his marriage, and that happened by chance. Had Lilian really suffered from his desertion of her—had I felt any desire to see her avenged—I must have been satisfied. As it was I felt almost inclined to pity him, as more weak than wicked. I do not believe that any utterly bad man would be as heartily ashamed of himself as Arthur Trafford appeared to be when he saw Lilian for the first time after his approaching marriage with 'Miss Farrar' was announced.
The Fairview party were attending morning service at the little church to which Lilian and I went. I do not think that they had the slightest expectation of seeing us there; since they could not know that we should choose the long walk to that out-of-the-way little church, in preference to attending the one in the village. Most probably they went there for the drive, or perhaps to create a little sensation, which Miss Farrar was candid enough to acknowledge she had a penchant for doing.
They were shewn into the best pew, as befitted people who had arrived in state, the old clerk himself seeing that their wants in the way of hassocks and hymn-books were duly supplied, before signing to his subordinate to cease pulling the bell, and stepping back into the vestry for Mr Wyatt, whom he always carefully buttoned into his reading-desk before shutting himself up in his own square box beneath. How thankful I felt that although Arthur Trafford could see Lilian, she was so placed that she could not see him. I was glad too that he should see her thus—shewing no traces of suffering from his desertion, her face blooming with the delicate rose-tint of health, and its whole expression calm, and sweet, and pure; whilst she joined in the service in a way which betokened no wandering thoughts, unconscious of the eyes bent upon her half in shame, half in regret. He was surprised, I fancied even disagreeably so, to find his loss borne so calmly as this. And though he no doubt persuaded himself that he was glad to see that his desertion had not permanently injured her, his vanity was wounded.
It was just as well that the bride-elect had no misgivings about herself, and was too much occupied in admiring some bracelets, which I suppose she was wearing for the first time, to notice the direction of her lover's eyes. She did not perceive us where we sat, and I contrived to whisper a few words so as to draw Lilian's attention from them, as they passed down the aisle on their way out. They had driven away before she knew that they had been there, and I was rejoiced to find that her walk home was none the less enjoyed for my telling her of it.
The following evening Lilian was seated at the piano trying a new song which Robert Wentworth had brought down with him. He was standing by her side, listening attentively and critically, stopping her every now and then, to make her go over the ground again, frankly pointing out defects of style or what not, as his habit was with all we did. A glorious July evening.