Maria valued it pretty accurately. "It is far better than ill-will," she said to her grandmother; "but I dare say they think I am going home to be married, and as they all look forward to England eventually, they feel that Lady Medway may not be unserviceable in the future."
"Dinna look a gift-horse in the mouth, Maria. Few folks give away anything of real value to themselves. You needna feel under any special obligation for aught but the good will, and that's aye worth having. As for being Lady Medway, there is many a slip between cup and lip, and oceans between you and a' the accidents o' war, and love not unchangeable in this warld o' change; and there's your father's will that may stand in your road like a wall you can neither win round nor over. I'm real glad at this hour that your grandfather was wise enough to write naething about Lord Medway. You can now tell your ain news, or keep it, whichever seems best to you."
"Do you mean to say, grandmother, that my father has not been told about my engagement to Lord Medway?"
"Just so. At first your grandfather was too ill to write one thing or another; and by the time he was able to hold a pen, we had, baith o' us, come to the conclusion that silence anent the matter was wisdom. It would hae been a hard matter to tell, without telling the whole story, Police Court and young Bradley included, and then there was aye the uncertainty of a man's love and liking to be reckoned with; none o' us could be sure Lord Medway would hold to his promise; he might meet other women to take his heart from you; he might be killed in battle, or in a duel, for it is said he has fought three already; the chances o' the engagement coming to naething were so many on every side we came to the conclusion to leave a' to the future, and I'm sure we did the best thing we could do."
"I am so glad you did it, grandmother. I shall now go home on my own merits. If I win love, it will be because I am Maria Semple, not because I am going to be Lady Medway. And if my engagement was known I should never hear the last of it. I should be questioned about letters--whether they came or not; my stepmother might talk about the matter; my father insists on a public recognition of my position, and so on. There would be such endless discussions about Lord Medway that I should get weary to even hear his name. And I must bear my fate, whatever it is."