But two more peeps from our bridge need we take, and then our characters will be ready to meet us upon the further side.
A glance from here will reveal to us Mrs. Major, that masterly woman, inscribing in her diary:
“_Getting on with Mr. M. Should sue. Precip. fat._”
Fill out the abbreviations to which Mrs. Major, in her diary, was prone, and we have:
“_Getting on with Mr. Marrapit. Should succeed. Precipitancy fatal._”
Succeed in what? To what would precipitancy of action be irreparable? Listen to a conversation that may enlighten us--spoken upon the lawn of Herons' Holt; Mr. Marrapit in his chair making a lap for the Rose of Sharon; Mrs. Major on a garden seat, crocheting.
A stealthy peep assuring her that his eyes were not closed, Mrs. Major nerved herself with a deep breath; with a long sigh let it escape in the form, “A year ago!”--dropped hands upon her lap and gazed wistfully at the setting sun. She had seen the trick very successfully performed upon the stage.
With an admirable start Mrs. Major appeared to gather in wandering fancies. “I fear I was thinking aloud, Mr. Marrapit. I beg pardon.”
“Do not. There is no occasion. You said 'A year ago.'”
A pause followed. The wistful woman felt that, were the thing to be done properly, the word lay with her companion. To her pleasure he continued:
Mrs. Major clasped her hands; spoke with admirable ecstasy. “Oh, Mr. Marrapit, of a golden--golden page in my life.”
Mr. Marrapit slowly moved his head towards her.
Her eyes were averted. “The time has passed swiftly,” he said.
Mrs. Major breathed: “For me it has flown on--on--” She searched wildly for a metaphor. “On wings,” she concluded.
Again there was a pause, and again Mrs. Major felt that for this passage to have fullest effect the word lay with Mr. Marrapit. But Mr. Marrapit, himself considerably perturbed, did not speak. The moments sped. Fearful lest they should distance beyond recovery the sentiments she felt she had aroused, Mrs. Major hastened to check them.
She said musingly: “I wonder if they are right?”--sighed as though doubtful.
“Why, the people who say that time flies when it is spent in pleasant company.”
“They are correct,” Mr. Marrapit affirmed.
“Oh, I do not doubt it for my part, Mr. Marrapit. I never knew what happiness was until I come here--came here. But if--” The masterly woman paused.