But that Marian, though not prominent, and apparently merely a guest, was necessary to the comfort of each member of the family, was a thing that at the end of a fortnight, Agnes could not deny. Nor could she attempt to make up a case to show that she and her husband were equally in want of her.
"So, Marian," said she, as they parted, "I forgive you on condition of your spending Christmas with us."
"And I ought to forgive you," said Edmund, "in consideration of the fulfilment of my prediction that you would not be able to leave the Lyddells when I was ready to receive you."
Marian smiled, and watched them from the door. As they lost sight of the house, Edmund turned to his wife, saying, "How little we are fit to order events! Here, Agnes, I looked back at this house six years ago in a sort of despair. I was ready to reproach Providence, to reproach everything. I thought I saw my uncle's children in the way to be ruined, all his work undone, and there was I, unable to act, and yet with the responsibility of the care of them. I tell you, Agnes, I never was so wretched in my life. And yet what short-sightedness! There has Marian been, placed, like a witness of the truth, calm, firm, constant, guarding herself and her brother first, and then softening, and winning all that came under her influence."
"Oh! but, Edmund, your coming home saved Gerald," said the wife, who could not see her husband's credit given away even to Marian.
"I brought the experience and authority that she could not have, but vain would have been my attempts without the sense of right she had always kept up in his mind. Trouble has done much for those Lyddells, but I don't believe that without her, it would have had that effect: When I remember what Mr. Lyddell was, his carelessness, the painful manner in which he used to talk; when I see him now, when I think of what that poor Caroline was saved from, when I see the alteration in Clara, and watch that blind boy, then I see indeed that our little Marian, whom we thought thrown away and spoilt, was sent there to be a blessing. If she had been naturally a winning, gentle, persuasive person, I should have thought less of the wonder; but in her it is the simple force of goodness, undecorated. I once feared the constant opposition in which she lived, would harden her, but instead, she has softened, sweetened, and lost all that was hard and haughty in her ways, when it was no longer needed for a protection. Selina Marchmont has failed too in giving her the exclusive spirit which I once feared for her. It is as if she had a spell for passing through the world unscathed."
"And you think she is happy?"
"As happy as those that never look for their happiness in this world."
Agnes sighed. "My vision has always been," said she, "to see Marian as happy as--ourselves."
"She may be yet," said Edmund smiling, "but she has the best sort of happiness. She is in less danger of clinging to this world than we are. And somehow she gives me the impression of one too high and noble to seek her happiness in the way in which most people look for it. Yes, we ourselves, Agnes, we have a nest and home in this world; she stands above it, and her only relation with it is to make others happy."
"She little thinks how we talk of her," said Agnes. "And still stranger it is, that with the reverence I have for her, I can play with her and scold her."
A silence; ending with Agnes repeating,
"GOOD LORD, through this world's troubled way
Thy children's course secure;
And lead them onward day by day,
Kindly like Thee and pure.
"Be theirs to do Thy work of love,
All erring souls to win;
Amid a sinful world to move,
Yet give no smile to sin."