But as he went he again encountered Beatrice. "Tell Mary I went to
her to-day," said she, "and that I expect her up here to-morrow. If
she does not come, I shall be savage."

"Do not be savage," said he, putting out his hand, "even though she
should not come."

Beatrice immediately saw that his manner with her was not playful,
and that his face was serious. "I was only in joke," said she; "of
course I was only joking. But is anything the matter? Is Mary ill?"

"Oh, no; not ill at all; but she will not be here to-morrow, nor
probably for some time. But, Miss Gresham, you must not be savage
with her."

Beatrice tried to interrogate him, but he would not wait to answer
her questions. While she was speaking he bowed to her in his usual
old-fashioned courteous way, and passed on out of hearing. "She will
not come up for some time," said Beatrice to herself. "Then mamma
must have quarrelled with her." And at once in her heart she
acquitted her friend of all blame in the matter, whatever it might
be, and condemned her mother unheard.

The doctor, when he arrived at his own house, had in nowise made
up his mind as to the manner in which he would break the matter to
Mary; but by the time that he had reached the drawing-room, he had
made up his mind to this, that he would put off the evil hour till
the morrow. He would sleep on the matter--lie awake on it, more
probably--and then at breakfast, as best he could, tell her what had
been said of her.

Mary that evening was more than usually inclined to be playful.
She had not been quite certain till the morning, whether Frank had
absolutely left Greshamsbury, and had, therefore, preferred the
company of Miss Oriel to going up to the house. There was a peculiar
cheerfulness about her friend Patience, a feeling of satisfaction
with the world and those in it, which Mary always shared with her;
and now she had brought home to the doctor's fireside, in spite of
her young troubles, a smiling face, if not a heart altogether happy.

"Uncle," she said at last, "what makes you so sombre? Shall I read to
you?"

"No; not to-night, dearest."

"Why, uncle; what is the matter?"

"Nothing, nothing."

"Ah, but it is something, and you shall tell me;" getting up, she
came over to his arm-chair, and leant over his shoulder.

He looked at her for a minute in silence, and then, getting up from
his chair, passed his arm round her waist, and pressed her closely to
his heart.

"My darling