The day of the drawing-room had come; Mrs. Lyddell and Caroline were going, and Marian was of course to go with Lady Marchmont. She had just been full dressed, and had come down stairs to wait for Lady Marchmont's carriage, when a step was heard approaching. She thought it was the servant, to announce it; it was the servant, but the announcement was not what she expected. It was "Mr. Arundel,"--and Edmund stood before her, browner, thinner, older, but still Edmund himself. She could not have spoken; she only held out her hand, and returned his strong pressure with all the force her soft fingers were capable of. Mrs. Lyddell spoke, he answered, explanations were given and received, and still she stood as if she was dreaming, until he turned to her, and said, "Well, Marian, these are transformations indeed?" "I can't help it," said Marian. "Do you think I want you to help it? I suppose I need not ask if the Marchmonts are in town?" "Lady Marchmont presents Marian," said Mrs. Lyddell; "we expect her carriage every minute." And just then the announcement really came. "Her carriage, not herself?" said Edmund. "Well, I think I might go with you to her house, Marian, if your feathers are not ashamed of such shabby company." "O, pray come!" "And you will return to dinner, I hope, Mr. Arundel," said Mrs. Lyddell, "at half-past seven? Mr. Lyddell will be so glad to see you." Edmund accepted the invitation, and the two cousins went down stairs together. As soon as they were in the carriage, Edmund said, "A lucky moment to come in. It is something to have seen you in all your splendour. You have grown into something magnificent!" "All this finery makes me look taller than I really am." "Nevertheless, however you may try to conceal it, I am afraid you have turned into the full grown cat. I saw it in your letter." "O, Edmund, I am so sorry I wrote that letter." "Why? Are you happier about Gerald?" "No, I don't know that I am," said Marian, sighing; "but--but I little thought it would make so much difference to you. I did not know what I was doing." "I am glad of it, or you would not have written so freely; though after all you could not have helped being like a sensible straightforward person." "O, it is untold relief that you are come; and yet I must be sorry--" "I won't have you sorry. No one should regret having told the honest truth. The fact is, I ought never to have gone. And poor Gerald?" "I have no more to say, only vague fears. But now you are come, it is all right." "Don't trust too much to me, Marian. Remember, it will be a generous thing in Gerald if he attends to me at all. He is not obliged to do so." "You will--you must do everything. Gerald is as fond of you as ever, I know he is, though he would not write. O, I am glad! You heard of our delightful going home, I hope?" "Yes. All well there?" said Edmund, hurriedly. "Very well. Agnes is grown so tall, and it is so very nice there. The old Manor house--"