Why, you'll have your carriage, Maggie.

Well! I hope Mr.Buxton has taken it kindly, because he'll have a deal to do with the settlements.

I'm sure I thought he was engaged to Erminia." Ringing changes on these subjects all the afternoon, Mrs.Browne sat with Maggie.

She occasionally wandered off to speak about Edward, and how favorably his future prospects would be advanced by the engagement.
"Let me see--there's the house in Combehurst: the rent of that would be a hundred and fifty a-year, but we'll not reckon that.

But there's the quarries" (she was reckoning upon her fingers in default of a slate, for which she had vainly searched), "we'll call them two hundred a-year, for I don't believe Mr.Buxton's stories about their only bringing him in seven-pence; and there's Newbridge, that's certainly thirteen hundred--where had I got to, Maggie ?" "Dear mamma, do go and lie down for a little; you look quite flushed," said Maggie, softly.
Was this the manner to view her betrothal with such a man as Frank?
Her mother's remarks depressed her more than she could have thought it possible; the excitement of the morning was having its reaction, and she longed to go up to the solitude under the thorn-tree, where she had hoped to spend a quiet, thoughtful afternoon.
Nancy came in to replace glasses and spoons in the cupboard.