Silence like a dead weight seemed to fall upon the room.
Enid had uttered a half-stifled exclamation of horror, but blank amazement rendered the guests dumb. Mr. Prentice, who had become apoplectically red, opened and shut his mouth; but no sound issued from it. Mr. Mears, with bowed head and heavily hanging arms, stared at the carpet. Gradually every eye sank, and all were staring downwards—as if unable to support the sight of the couple who stood hand in hand before them.
At last Mr. Ridgway tried to say something; and then Mr. Fentiman feebly echoed his words.
"You have taken our breath away, madam. But it behoves us to—ah—congratu—to felicitate."
"Or to proffer our good wishes."
"And our best hopes."
But Mrs. Thompson did not look at them or listen to them. Marsden was speaking to her in a low voice.
"Yes, yes, yes. Every word. Every word. I meant all I said then—and I mean it a thousand times more now. You are making me the proudest of mortals—but don't forget one thing."
"What?"
"Why, all I said about the difficulties—the, the inequality of our position, which must somehow be got rid of. But of course you've thought it out."