CHAPTER XVII. "Too high, too grave, too largo, too deep, Her love could neither laugh nor sleep, And thus it tired him: his desire Was for a less consuming fire. He wished that she should love him well. Not wildly; wished her passion's spell To charm her heart, but leave her fancy free; To quicken converse, not to quell. He granted her to sigh, for so could he; But when she wept, why should it be? 'T was irksome, for it stole away The joy of his love holiday." PHILIP VAN ARTEVELDE. During our drive to London, Edward asked Mr. Middleton how long he intended to remain in town, and where he meant our marriage to take place. "Why that must depend on you both," said my uncle. "What do you say to being married at Elmsley?" The proposal struck me so painfully, that I looked at Edward with the anxious wish that he might make some objection to it, though I could scarcely hope so. As I feared, he only turned to me, and asked what my wishes were; before I could answer, however, Mrs. Middleton said, that considering all that was to be done about getting my trousseau, and making various preparations for the wedding, she thought it would be better to remain in London. Edward then added that it would be his interest to keep us there, as the settlements would often require his presence in town, but that we might go to Elmsley to be married, if my uncle wished it. To my inexpressible relief, Mrs. Middleton again objected; and urged, that as my uncle and herself would go abroad soon after my marriage, it was useless to add a journey to Elmsley, and back again, to the one they would subsequently undertake. I looked at my aunt with surprise, but she made me a sign not to pursue the subject any further for the present. I gladly acquiesced; but the idea of this journey abroad weighed on my spirits, and made me silent during the rest of our drive.