m on that score. She had no wish that he should
become a total abstainer; indeed she was, at this very time, giving him,
by the doctor's orders, as much porter and wine as he could bear; but
she thought that Mary's total abstinence might act as a check upon him
to keep him within the bounds of strict moderation. She knew, too, that
Mary was a genuine Christian, and she sincerely believed that true
religion in a wife was the only solid foundation of domestic happiness.
Before, therefore, they returned to Greymoor Park, Frank had his
mother's hearty consent, subject to Sir Thomas's approval, to his
engaging himself to Mary Oliphant.

And what were Mary's own feelings on the subject? Poor girl, she had
never realised before that day of peril and rescue that she felt, or
could feel, more than a half friendly, half sisterly liking for Frank
Oldfield. She had always admired his open generous disposition, and had
been happy in his society; but they had been so many years companions,
that she had never thought of looking upon him as one likely to form an
attachment to herself. But now there could be no doubt on the subject.
What passed in the old ruin had convinced her that his heart was given
to her; and more than this, that her own heart was given to him. And
now his sufferings and illness, brought on him through his exertions to
save her from destruction, had called out her love for him into full
consciousness. Yet with that consciousness there came a deep sense of
pain. It had taken her so by surprise; her heart was given before she
had had time to reflect whether she ought to have given it. Could she
be happy with him? was he a real Christian? did he love the same Saviour
she loved herself? Oh, these thoughts pressed heavily upon her spirit,
but she spread out her cares first before her heavenly Father, and then
with full childlike openness before her earthly parent--that loving
mother from whom she had never had a single concealment.

Mrs Oliphant sighed when her daughter had poured out her anxieties and
difficulties.

"Oh, mamma--dearest mamma!" cried Mary, "what ought I to do? I am sure
he loves me, and I know that he will tell me so, for he is the very last
person to keep back what he feels. What would you and dear papa wish me
to do, should he declare his affection? I could not honestly say that
my heart is indifferent to him, and yet I should not dare to encourage
him to look forward to a time when we