CHAPTER XXXIV
The respectable Douglas coach drove to the door at Thornbank. Mr. Douglas threw a paternal look at his sheep, who were tinkling their tiresome little bells and eating their rich grass in front of the house, and began to think St. Mary's was not such a very fine place after all, and that Thornbank had its attractions. Mrs. Douglas watched Miss Forrester, to see whether she turned contemptuous at the sight of a commonplace, moderate-sized home; and EHza was eager for the first sight of Sarah. She was at the door, looking eager and happy in an unusual degree; and the next minute the important fact of Mr. Wentworth's proposal was made known to all the family; and in half an hour Eliza and Sarah were established in their own little room, perched on two hard cane chairs, with their shawls on to atone for the want of a fire, both talking at once, both listening, and both happy; but Sarah was the happiest, for though Eliza's gaieties had been the most brilliant, they were evanescent and fruitless, whereas Sarah was convinced that she had secured for life a comfortable little allotment of perfect bliss.
"Tell me more, Sarah; tell me exactly what he said."
"No, I can't indeed, Eliza; it seems so foolish to repeat those sort of things."
"Oh! not to me, your own sister. You really must, for I never have heard a real, live proposal, and I am so curious to know what they say. Just begin where you left off in your last letter, after he went over to my aunt's.
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