quite sure,--that if he should
show the slightest sign of a wish to be free from his engagement,
she would make him free--at once. She would make him free, and would
never allow herself to think for a moment that he had been wrong.
She had told him what her own feelings were very plainly,--perhaps,
in her enthusiasm, too plainly,--and now he must judge for himself
and for her. In respect to her aunt, she would endeavour to avoid
any further conversation on the subject till her lover should have
decided finally what would be best for both of them. If he should
choose to say that everything between them should be over, she would
acquiesce,--and all the world should be over for her at the same
time.

While this was going on in Uphill Lane something of the same kind was
taking place at the Lowtown Parsonage. Parson John became aware that
his nephew had been with the ladies at Uphill, and when the young
man came in for lunch, he asked some question which introduced the
subject. "You've told them of this fresh trouble, no doubt."

"I didn't see Miss Marrable," said the Captain.

"I don't know that Miss Marrable much signifies. You haven't asked
Miss Marrable to be your wife."

"I saw Mary, and I told her."

"I hope you made no bones about it."

"I don't know what you mean, sir."

"I hope you told her that you two had had your little game of play,
like two children, and that there must be an end of it."

"No; I didn't tell her that."

"That's what you have got to tell her in some kind of language, and
the sooner you do it the better. Of course you can't marry her. You
couldn't have done it if this money had been all right, and it's out
of the question now. Bless my soul! how you would hate each other
before six months were over. I can understand that for a strong
fellow like you, when he's used to it, India may be a jolly place
enough."

"It's a great deal more than I can understand."

"But for a poor man with a wife and family;--oh dear! it must be very
bad indeed. And neither of you have ever been used to that kind of
thing."

"I have not," said the Captain.

"Nor has she. That old lady up there is not rich, but she is as proud
as Lucifer, and always lives as though the whole place belonged to
her. She's a good manager, and she don't run in debt;--but Mary
Lowther knows no more of roughing it than a duchess."

"I hope I may never have to teach her."

"I trust you never may. It's a very bad lesson for a