his departure from England was now definitively fixed for the ensuing year.
"And Rosamond Oliver?" suggested Mary: the words seeming to escape her lips involuntarily; for no sooner had she uttered them, than she made a gesture as if wishing to recall them. St. John had a book in his hand—it was his unsocial custom to read at meals—he closed it, and looked up.
"Rosamond Oliver," said he, "is about to be married to Mr. Granby; one of the best connected and most estimable residents in S———, grandson and heir to Sir Frederic Granby: I had the intelligence from her father yesterday."
His sisters looked at each other, and at me; we all three looked at him: he was serene as glass.
"The match must have been got up hastily," said Diana: "they cannot have known each other long."
"But two months: they met in October at the county ball at S———. But where there are no obstacles to a union, as in the present case, where the connection is in every point desirable, delays are unnecessary: they will be married as soon as S——— Place, which Sir Frederic gives up to them, can be refitted for their reception."
