y.

"I cannot say that I think it wise."

"I am not speaking of wisdom. Of course, Mr. Gilmore is very much
richer, and all that."

"You know, Mary, that I would not counsel you to marry a man because
he was rich."

"That is what you mean when you tell me I am not wise. I tried
it,--with all the power of thought and calculation that I could give
to it, and I found that I could not marry Mr. Gilmore."

"I am not speaking about that now."

"You mean that Walter is so poor, that he never should be allowed to
marry."

"I don't care twopence about Walter."

"But I do, Aunt Sarah. I care more about him than all the world
beside. I had to think for him."

"You did not take much time to think."

"Hardly a minute--and yet it was sufficient." Then she paused,
waiting for her aunt; but it seemed that her aunt had nothing further
to say. "Well," continued Mary, "if it must be so, it must. If you
cannot wish me joy--"

"Dearest, you know well enough that I wish you all happiness."

"This is my happiness." It seemed to the bewildered old lady that the
whole nature of the girl was altered. Mary was speaking now as might
have spoken some enthusiastic young female who had at last succeeded
in obtaining for herself the possession,--more or less permanent,--of
a young man, after having fed her imagination on novels for the last
five years; whereas Mary Lowther had hitherto, in all moods of her
life, been completely opposite to such feminine ways and doings.
"Very well," continued Mary; "we will say nothing more about it at
present. I am greatly grieved that I have incurred your displeasure;
but I cannot wish it otherwise."

"I have said nothing of displeasure."

"Walter is to be up after lunch, and I will only ask that he may not
be received with black looks. If it must be visited as a sin, let it
be visited on me."

"Mary, that is unkind and ungenerous."

"If you knew, Aunt Sarah, how I have longed during the night for your
kind voice,--for your sympathy and approval!"

Aunt Sarah paused again for a moment, and then went down to her
domestic duties without another word.

In the afternoon Walter came, but Aunt Sarah did not see him. When
Mary went to her the old lady declared that, for the present, it
would be better so. "I do not know what to say to him at present. I
must think of it, and speak to his uncle, and try to find out what
had best be done."

She was sitting as she said this up in her own room, withou