CHAPTER I 'Wooed and married and a'.'
'Edith!' said Margaret, gently, 'Edith!'
But, as Margaret half suspected, Edith had fallen asleep. She lay curledup on the sofa in the back drawing-room in Harley Street, looking verylovely in her white muslin and blue ribbons. If Titania had ever beendressed in white muslin and blue ribbons, and had fallen asleep on acrimson damask sofa in a back drawing-room, Edith might have been takenfor her. Margaret was struck afresh by her cousin's beauty. They hadgrown up together from childhood, and all along Edith had been remarkedupon by every one, except Margaret, for her prettiness; but Margaret hadnever thought about it until the last few days, when the prospect ofsoon losing her companion seemed to give force to every sweet qualityand charm which Edith possessed. They had been talking about weddingdresses, and wedding ceremonies; and Captain Lennox, and what he hadtold Edith about her future life at Corfu, where his regiment wasstationed; and the difficulty of keeping a piano in good tune (adifficulty which Edith seemed to consider as one of the most formidablethat could befall her in her married life), and what gowns she shouldwant in the visits to Scotland, which would immediately succeed hermarriage; but the whispered tone had latterly become more drowsy; andMargaret, after a pause of a few minutes, found, as she fancied, that inspite of the buzz in the next room, Edith had rolled herself up into asoft ball of muslin and ribbon, and silken curls, and gone off into apeaceful little after-dinner nap.
Margaret had been on the point of telling her cousin of some of theplans and visions which she entertained as to her future life in thecountry parsonage, where her father and mother lived; and where herbright holidays had always been passed, though for the last ten yearsher aunt Shaw's house had been considered as her home. But in default ofa listener, she had to brood over the change in her life silently asheretofore. It was a happy brooding, although tinged with regret atbeing separated for an indefinite time from her gentle aunt and dearcousin. As she thought of the delight of filling the important post ofonly daughter in Helstone parsonage, pieces of the conversation out ofthe next room came upon her ears. Her aunt Shaw was talking to the fiveor six ladies who had been dining there, and whose husbands were stillin the dining-room. They were the familiar acquaintances of the house;neighbours whom Mrs. Shaw called friends, because she happened to dinewith them more frequently than with any other people, and because if sheor Edith wanted anything from them, or they from her, they did notscruple to make a call at each other's houses before luncheon. Theseladies and their husbands were invited, in their capacity of friends, toeat a farewell dinner in honour of Edith's approaching marriage. Edithhad rather objected to this arrangement, for Captain Lennox was expectedto arrive by a late train this very evening; but, although she was aspoiled child, she was too careless and idle to have a very strong willof her own, and gave way when she found that her mother had absolutelyordered those extra delicacies of the season which are always supposedto be efficacious against immoderate grief at farewell dinners. Shecontented herself by leaning back in her chair, merely playing with thefood on her plate, and looking grave and absent; while all around herwere enjoying the mots of Mr. Grey, the gentleman who always took thebottom of the table at Mrs. Shaw's dinner parties, and asked Edith togive them some music in the drawing-room. Mr. Grey was particularlyagreeable over this farewell