"
CHAPTER XXXVII.
WHEN the offer of Mr. Walker's cottage was made known in the family,
there was a passive acquiescence in the change on the part of all
but Aunt Grace. Her pride was aroused.
"It's very kind in Mr. Willet," she said--"very kind, but scarcely
delicate under the circumstances."
"Why not delicate?" inquired Mr. Markland.
"Did they think we were going into that little pigeon-box, just
under the shadow of Woodbine Lodge. If we have to come down so low,
it will not be in this neighbourhood. There's too much pride in the
Markland blood for that!"
"We have but little to do with pride now," said Mrs. Markland.
Her husband sighed. The remark of his sister had quickened his
blood.
"It is the best we can do!" he remarked, sadly.
"Not by any means," said Grace. "There are other neighbourhoods than
this, and other houses to be obtained. Let us go from here; not
remain the observed of all curious observers--objects of remark and
pity!"
Her brother arose while she was speaking, and commenced walking the
room in a disturbed manner.
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