The clergyman, remembering how vainly he had tried to change Conolly’s intention when Marian was to be married, felt that he should succeed no better now that she was to be divorced.  Silent and cast down, he sat dangling his handkerchief between his knees and leaning forward on his elbows toward the fire.

“You must excuse me if I see my way straight through to the end.  I daresay you would rather realize it gradually, inevitable as it is,” added Conolly, looking down with some pity at his drooping figure.  “I cannot help my habit of mind.  When are you going to be married?” he continued, to Marmaduke.

“I dont know.  The Countess is in a hurry.  I’m not.  But I suppose it will be some time in spring.”

“You have made up your mind to it at last?”

“Oh, I never had any particular objection to it, only I dont like to be hunted into a corner.  Conny is a good little girl, and will make a steady wife.  I dont like her mother; but as for herself, she is fond of me; and after all, I did lead her a dance long ago.  Besides, old boy, the Earl is forking out handsomely; and as I have some notion of settling down to farm, his dust will come in conveniently as capital.”

The clergyman rose, and slowly pulled on his woolen gloves.

“If youre going, I will see you part of the way,” said Marmaduke.  “I’ll cheer you up.  You know you neednt tell the governor until to-morrow.”

“I had rather go alone, if you intend to behave as you did before.”

“Never fear.  I’m as sober as a judge now.  Come along.  Away with melancholy!  Youll have Douglas for a brother-in-law before this time next year.”

This seemed to have been in the clergyman’s mind; for he shook hands with his host more distantly than usual.  When they were gone, Conolly went to the laboratory, and rang for his neglected dinner, which he ate with all a traveller’s appetite.  From the dinner table he went straight to the organ, and played until a little before midnight, when, after a brief turn in the open air, he retired to bed, and was soon quietly asleep.

BOOK IV

CHAPTER XVIII

Miss McQuinch spent Christmas morning in her sitting-room reading; a letter which had come by the morning post.  It was dated the 17th December at New York:  and the formal beginning and ending were omitted.  This was an old custom between Marian and her cousin.  In their girlish correspondence they had expressed their affection by such modes of address as “My darling Marian,” and “My dearest Nelly.”  Subsequently they became oppressed by these ceremonies and dropped them.  Thereafter their letters contained only the matter to be communicated and the signature.

“You are the only person in England,” wrote Marian, “to whom I dare write now.  A month ago I had more correspondents than I had time to answer.  Do you know, Nelly, I hesitated before commencing this letter, lest you should no longer care to have anything to do with me.  That may have been an unworthy thought for a friend:  but it was an unavoidable one for a woman.