All that has happened
since he left us has only increased my strong regard and sympathy for
him. I hope I am doing right in trying to help him to employment
abroad--I hope, most earnestly and anxiously, that it will end well.

11th.--Sir Percival had an interview with Mr. Fairlie, and I was sent
for to join them.

I found Mr. Fairlie greatly relieved at the prospect of the "family
worry" (as he was pleased to describe his niece's marriage) being
settled at last. So far, I did not feel called on to say anything to
him about my own opinion, but when he proceeded, in his most
aggravatingly languid manner, to suggest that the time for the marriage
had better be settled next, in accordance with Sir Percival's wishes, I
enjoyed the satisfaction of assailing Mr. Fairlie's nerves with as
strong a protest against hurrying Laura's decision as I could put into
words. Sir Percival immediately assured me that he felt the force of
my objection, and begged me to believe that the proposal had not been
made in consequence of any interference on his part. Mr. Fairlie
leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, said we both of us did
honour to human nature, and then repeated his suggestion as coolly as
if neither Sir Percival nor I had said a word in opposition to it. It
ended in my flatly declining to mention the subject to Laura, unless
she first approached it of her own accord. I left the room at once
after making that declaration. Sir Percival looked seriously
embarrassed and distressed, Mr. Fairlie stretched out his lazy legs on
his velvet footstool, and said, "Dear Marian! how I envy you your
robust nervous system! Don't bang the door!"

On going to Laura's room I found that she had asked for me, and that
Mrs. Vesey had informed her that I was with Mr. Fairlie. She inquired
at once what I had been wanted for, and I told her all that had passed,
without attempting to conceal the vexation and annoyance that I really
felt. Her answer surprised and distressed me inexpressibly--it was the
very last reply that I should have expected her to make.

"My uncle is right," she said. "I have caused trouble and anxiety
enough to you, and to all about me. Let me cause no more, Marian--let
Sir Percival decide."

I remonstrated warmly, but nothing that I could say moved her.

"I am held to my engagement," she replied; "I have broken with my old
life. The evil day will not come the less surely because I put it off.
No, Marian! onc