he,
disconsolately. "I made up my mind to tell you this, and so I came
over. I told Lady Scatcherd I should not stay,--not even for dinner."

"I did not know you were so hurried," said she, almost in a whisper.

On a sudden he stood still, and pulling the donkey's rein, caused him
to stand still also. The beast required very little persuasion to be
so guided, and obligingly remained meekly passive.

"Mary, Mary!" said Frank, throwing his arms round her knees as she
sat upon her steed, and pressing his face against her body. "Mary,
you were always honest; be honest now. I love you with all my heart.
Will you be my wife?"

But still Mary said not a word. She no longer bit her lips; she was
beyond that, and was now using all her efforts to prevent her tears
from falling absolutely on her lover's face. She said nothing. She
could no more rebuke him now and send him from her than she could
encourage him. She could only sit there shaking and crying and
wishing she was on the ground. Frank, on the whole, rather liked the
donkey. It enabled him to approach somewhat nearer to an embrace than
he might have found practicable had they both been on their feet. The
donkey himself was quite at his ease, and looked as though he was
approvingly conscious of what was going on behind his ears.

"I have a right to a word, Mary; say 'Go,' and I will leave you at
once."

But Mary did not say "Go." Perhaps she would have done so had she
been able; but just at present she could say nothing. This came from
her having failed to make up her mind in due time as to what course
it would best become her to follow.

"One word, Mary; one little word. There, if you will not speak,
here is my hand. If you will have it, let it lie in yours;--if not,
push it away." So saying, he managed to get the end of his fingers
on to her palm, and there it remained unrepulsed. "La jeunesse"
was beginning to get a lesson; experience when duly sought after
sometimes comes early in life.

In truth Mary had not strength to push the fingers away. "My love,
my own, my own!" said Frank, presuming on this very negative sign of
acquiescence. "My life, my own one, my own Mary!" and then the hand
was caught hold of and was at his lips before an effort could be made
to save it from such treatment.

"Mary, look at me; say one word to me."

There was a deep sigh, and then came the one word--"Oh, Frank!"

"Mr Gresham, I hope I have the honour of seeing you quite well,