Arundel, pointing to Edmund and Marian; "he felt his position, in the
country raised by her fortune, and was glad to use any means of adding
to his consequence."

"I should like to see more of them. I wish we could ask them to stay
here," said Sir Edmund, with something like a sigh. "But come, had we
not better go in? The hungry fishers look quite ready for tea."




CHAPTER II.

"And now I set thee down to try
How thou canst walk alone."

_Lyra Innocentium_.


Scarcely eight months had passed since the last recorded conversation,
when Marian, in a dress of deep mourning, was slowly pacing the garden
paths, her eyes fixed on the ground, and an expression of thoughtful
sadness on her face. Heavy indeed had been the strokes that had fallen
upon her. Before the last summer had closed, the long sufferings of her
father had been terminated by one of the violent attacks, which had
often been expected to be fatal. Nor was this all that she had to mourn.
With winter had come severe colds and coughs; Lady Arundel was seized
with an inflammation of the chest, her constitution had been much
enfeebled by watching, anxiety, and grief, and in a very few days her
children were orphans.