“Yes, it’s quite true,” said Mrs. Martin.  “They were married sure enough.  He called here at Christmas, and said he would like to see Miss Edgeworth; but she was away on a visit to some friends.  I asked him if he had any message to leave for her, but he said, ’Oh, no; only I thought I should like to see how she is getting along.  That’s all, thank you.  I might call again at Easter.’  So he went away.  On last Easter Monday he came again.  Of course I had told Miss Edgeworth, about his calling at Christmas and enquiring about her, and it made me rather suspicious when he came again.  As you may suppose, I could not help taking notice; but for two days, nor, in fact, for the whole week, was there the slightest sign of anything like lovemaking between them.  No private conversation, no walking out together, nothing but commonplace talk and solemn looks.  I said to myself, ’If there is anything between them, they keep it mighty close to be sure.’  On the Tuesday evening, however, he spoke to me.  He said: 

“’I hope you won’t mention it, Mrs. Martin, but I would like to have a little advice from you, if you would be so kind as to give it.  Miss Edgeworth has been living with you for some time, and you must be well acquainted with her.  I am thinking of making a proposal, but our intercourse has been so slight, that I should be pleased first to have your opinion on the matter.’

“‘Mr. Philip,’ I said, ’you really must not ask me to say anything one way or the other, for or against.  I have my own sentiments, of course; but nobody shall ever say that I either made a match or marred one.’

“Nothing happened until the next day.  In the afternoon Miss Edgeworth was alone in this room, when I heard Mr. Philip walking down the passage, and stopping at the door, which was half open.  I peeped out, and then put off my slippers, and stepped a little nearer, until through the little opening between the door and the door-post, I could both see and hear them.  He was sitting on the table, dangling his boots to and fro just above the floor, and she was sitting on a low rocking-chair about six feet distant.  He did not beat about the bush, as the saying is; did not say, ‘My dear,’ or ‘by your leave, Miss,’ or ‘excuse me,’ or anything nice, as one would expect from a gentleman on a delicate occasion of the kind, but he said, quite abruptly: 

“‘How would you like to live at Nyalong, Miss Edgeworth?’

“She was looking on the floor, and her fingers were playing with a bit of ribbon, and she was so nice and winsome, and well dressed, you couldn’t have helped giving her a kiss.  She never raised her eyes to his face, but I think she just looked as high as his boots, which were stained and dusty.  The silly man was waiting for her to say something; but she hung down her head, and said nothing.  At last he said: 

“‘I suppose you know what I mean, Miss Edgeworth?’

“‘Yes,’ she said, in a low voice.  ‘I know what you mean, thank you.’