father says it is his sole
care to see you settled, and to know that if anything happens to him you
have a strong right hand to protect you. Come, darling, let me go down
and tell them both that you have thought better of it, and that you
consent."

"Mother, you do not wish it," said Mary gently. "All this does not come
from the heart."

"I think it does, my darling," said Mrs Ellis. "You see, it is my duty
to do what your father wishes. Yours to love and obey him."

"No, mother dear," said Mary gently. "Your voice contradicts it all.
This does not come from your heart. You do not wish to see me Daniel
Barnett's wife."

Mrs Ellis's face went down on her child's breast, and she let her tears
have their course for a few minutes, but raised her head again with a
sigh.

"I oughtn't to have done that," she said hurriedly. "Mary, my darling,
your father desires it, and it is, indeed it is, your duty to try and
meet his wishes. What am I to go down and say?"

"Go and tell him that I cannot forget the past, mother, and tell Mr
Barnett to wait. In a few months I will try to think, as you all wish
me, if--if I live."

"Oh, my darling, my darling," sobbed the mother.

"Don't cry, dear," said Mary calmly. "I can't help feeling like that
sometimes, it is when I think that he must be dead, and then hope comes,
and--mother," she whispered, "do you believe in dreams?"

"My darling, no," said Mrs Ellis, "only that they are the result of
thinking too much during the day of some particular thing. But I must
go down to them now, dear. Father will be so impatient. He was angry
last time Daniel came here, because you would keep up-stairs."

"Daniel!" said Mary sadly. "Mother, are you beginning to side against
me too?"

Mary Ellis had hardly asked these words when the sound of voices below
made her spring to her feet, run to the door, and stand there listening.

"Mary, my child, what is it?" cried Mrs Ellis.

For answer Mary ran down into the little parlour.

"John!" she cried wildly, and the next moment she was clinging to John
Grange's neck, while he stood there with one arm about her, holding her
tightly to him, and proudly facing her father and Barnett, who stood
scowling and trying hard to speak.

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

In the dead silence which fell upon all in the bailiff's room when Mary
Ellis flung herself upon John Grange's neck, a looker-on might have
counted sixty beats of the pendulum which