I once knew a girl who thought that a
gentleman who sent her mother a present of a sucking-pig, did it as a
delicate way of making her an offer. Tell me his exact words."
But Maggie blushed, and either would not or could not. So Mrs. Browne began
again:
"Well, if you're sure, you're sure. I wonder how he brought his father
round. So long as he and Erminia have been planned for each other! That
very first day we ever dined there after your father's death, Mr. Buxton as
good as told me all about it. I fancied they were only waiting till they
were out of mourning."
All this was news to Maggie. She had never thought that either Erminia or
Frank was particularly fond of the other; still less had she had any idea
of Mr. Buxton's plans for them. Her mother's surprise at her engagement
jarred a little upon her too: it had become so natural, even in these last
two hours, to feel that she belonged to _him_. But there were more discords
to come. Mrs. Browne began again, half in soliloquy:
"I should think he would have four thousand a-year. He did not tell you,
love, did he, if they had still that bad property in the canal, that his
father complained about? But he will have four thousand. Why, you'll have
your carriage, Maggie. Well! I hope Mr. Buxton has taken it kindly, because
he'll have a deal to do with the settlements. I'm sure I thought he was
engaged to Erminia.
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