d him that he was pressing her too hard. She would
tell him now,--now before it was too late,--that this was not so. His
journey to London must at any rate be prevented.

CHAPTER XVIII.

MR AND MRS TOOKEY.

On the day arranged, early on the morning after the dinner at Little
Alresford Park, John Gordon went up to London. He had not been much
moved by the intimation made to him by Mr Whittlestaff that some
letter should be written to him at his London address. He had made
his appeal to Mr Whittlestaff, and had received no answer whatever.
And he had, after a fashion, made his appeal also to the girl. He
felt sure that his plea must reach her. His very presence then
in this house had been an appeal to her. He knew that she so far
believed in him as to be conscious that she could at once become
his wife--if she were willing to throw over his rival. He knew also
that she loved him,--or had certainly loved him. He did not know the
nature of her regard; nor was it possible that he should ever know
that,--unless she were his wife. She had given a promise to that
other man, and--it was thus he read her character--she could be
true to her promise without any great heart-break. At any rate, she
intended to be true to it. He did not for a moment suspect that Mr
Whittlestaff was false. Mary had declared that she would not withdraw
her word,--that only from her own mouth was to be taken her intention
of such withdrawal, and that such intention she certainly would never
utter. Of her character he understood much,--but not quite all. He
was not aware of the depth of her feeling. But Mr Whittlestaff he
did not understand at all. Of all those vacillating softnesses he
knew nothing,--or of those moments spent with the poet, in which he
was wont to fight against the poet's pretences, and of those other
moments spent with Mrs Baggett, in which he would listen to, and
always finally reject, those invitations to manly strength which she
would always pour into his ears. That Mr Whittlestaff should spend
hour after hour, and now day after day, in teaching himself to regard
nothing but what might best suit the girl's happiness,--of that he
was altogether in the dark. To his thinking, Mr Whittlestaff was
a hard man, who, having gained his object, intended to hold fast
by what he had gained. He, John Gordon, knew, or thought that he
knew, that Mary, as his wife, would lead a happier life than with Mr
Whittlestaff. But things had turne