"You are evidently in the dark, Amy; I thought Julia would have written to you, and told you, as--she has me,--that she has been so stupid, so foolish, as to engage herself to cousin Alfred, Frances' brother. Is it not tiresome of her?"
"But the marriage will scarcely affect you, Anne?"
"Oh, but it will, though; for I had made up my mind Julia would be an old maid; she always said she would, and come some day and look after my children, if I ever have any," said Anne, blushing; "for I am sure I should puzzle to know how to dress them, much less understand how to manage them. Mamma says Aunt Mary--Mrs. Strickland--is very angry about the marriage, so I really do think Julia ought to give it up."
"Because Julia is penniless and a nobody; meaning, I suppose, that Alfred should marry some high born girl, who would, I have no doubt, snub him in the end. But then it would be so nice for Aunt to say, 'My daughter-in-law, Lady so-and-so-that was,' or the Earl of _somebody_, my son's father-in-law. Instead of which she will only have to recall the plain and _poor_ Miss Bennet, that was. Fancy Alfred coming to stay with us in our nutshell!"
"I never thought Mr. Strickland gave himself airs," replied Amy.
"Nor does he. But it is disagreeable to see a man sitting over the fire all day; or in summer time basking lazily in the sun."
"But Julia will probably change all that laziness and inaction. She is full of life and work herself. I think _he_ has chosen well."
"Of course _he_ has; but I consider Julia to have sacrificed herself. And now, do come down and see me off."
"I shall see you again soon, Amy dear," said Anne, with tearful eyes, as together they stood on the terrace. "Tom has promised to drive me over some day next week, not entirely for his dear wife's sake though; but because he has taken a great interest in some dreadful sinner in this parish, and she as violent a liking to him. The old rector has given Tom permission to visit her whenever he likes, glad enough, I dare say, to be rid the trouble of it himself. Poor woman! she cannot live long--a breaking up of nature, or something of that sort; but Mrs. Archer knows more about it than I do."
"Anne! Anne! What are you talking about?" asked her husband, catching a word here and there, of her rambling speech. "Come! jump in, the pony is quite impatient to be off."