Maggie could neither move nor speak.She only felt a warm comfort, an intense desire for rest.
Very, very gently he bent down and kissed her forehead.The clock ticked on.The flames of the fire spurted and fell.Maggie's eyes closed, she gave a little sigh, and soon, her cheek against his waistcoat, like a little child, was fast asleep.
The engagement was a settled thing.Every one in the house was relieved.Maggie herself felt as though she had found lights and safety, running from a wood full of loneliness and terror.She was sharp enough to see how relieved they all were that she was 'settled.' They were true kindly people, and now they were more kind to her than ever: that showed that they had been uneasy about her.
She was 'off their hands now.'
Maggie, when she saw this in the faces of Philip and Mr.Trenchard, and even of Millicent, was glad that she was engaged.She was somebody's now; she had friends and a home and work now, and she would banish all that other world for ever.For ever?...How curious it was that from the moment of her engagement her aunts, their house, the Chapel, and the people around it began to press upon her attention with a pathos and sentiment that she had never felt before.She went to see the aunts, of course, and sat in the old drawing-room for half-an-hour, and they were kind and distant.
They were glad that she was to be married; they hoped that she would be happy.Aunt Anne looked very ill, and there was a terrible air of desertion about the house as though all the life had gone out of it.
Maggie came away very miserable.Then she said to herself: "Now, look here.You're in a new house now.You've got to think of nothing but that--nothing, nothing, nothing..."She meant Martin.She might think of Martin (how indeed could she help it?) but she was not to long for him.No, no...not to long for him.She did wish that she could go to sleep more quickly when she went to bed.