o her twenty times before I ever saw her. She never
loved him, and does not now."

"Who has told you this, Captain Marrable?" She had not intended to
alter her form of speech, and when she had done so would have given
anything to have called him then by his Christian name.

"My Uncle John."

"I would ask herself."

"I mean to do so. But somehow, treated as I am here, I am bound to
tell my uncle of it first. And I cannot do that while Gregory is so
ill."

"I must go up to my uncle now, Walter. And I do so hope she may be
true to you. And I do so hope I may like her. Don't believe anything
till she has told you herself." Saying this, Edith Brownlow returned
to the house, and at once put her dream quietly out of her sight. She
said nothing to her mother about it then. It was not necessary that
she should tell her mother as yet.

CHAPTER LIX.

NEWS FROM DUNRIPPLE.

At the end of the first week in August news reached the vicarage at
Bullhampton that was not indeed very important to the family of Mr.
Fenwick, but which still seemed to have an immediate effect on their
lives and comfort. The Vicar for some days past had been, as regarded
himself, in a high good humour, in consequence of a communication
which he had received from Lord St. George. Further mention of this
communication must be made, but it may be deferred to the next
chapter, as other matters, more momentous, require our immediate
attention. Mr. Gilmore had pleaded very hard that a day might be
fixed, and had almost succeeded. Mary Lowther, driven into a corner,
had been able to give no reason why she should not fix a day, other
than this,--that Mr. Gilmore had promised her that she should not be
hurried. "What do you mean?" Mrs. Fenwick had said, angrily. "You
speak of the man who is to be your husband as though your greatest
happiness in life were to keep away from him." Mary Lowther had not
dared to answer that such would be her greatest happiness. Then news
had reached the vicarage of the illness of Gregory Marrable, and of
Walter Marrable's presence at Dunripple. This had come of course from
Aunt Sarah, at Loring; but it had come in such a manner as to seem to
justify, for a time, Mary's silence in reference to that question of
naming the day. The Marrables of Dunripple were not nearly related
to her. She had no personal remembrance of either Sir Gregory or his
son. But there was an importance attached to the tidings, which, if
analysed,