pot very soon, whether Bartley wanted him
or not; but he did not tell Mary this.

Mary was disappointed. "How kind and wise he is!" she said to
Julia--"too wise."

Next Wednesday morning Mary Bartley rode to Mrs. Gilbert, and was
received by her with courtesy, but with a warm embrace by Mrs.
Easton. After a while the latter invited her into the parlor, saying
there is somebody there; but no one knows. This, however, though
hardly unexpected, set Mary's heart beating, and when the parlor
door was opened, Mrs. Easton stepped back, and Mary was alone with
Walter Clifford.

Then might those who oppose an honest and tender affection have learned a
lesson. It was no longer affection only. It was passion. Walter was pale,
agitated, eager; he kissed her hands impetuously, and drew her to his
bosom. She sobbed there; he poured inarticulate words over her, and still
held her, panting, to his beating heart. Even when the first gush of love
subsided a little he could not be so reasonable as he used to be. He was
wild against his own father, hers, and every obstacle, and implored her
to marry him at once by special license, and leave the old people to
untie the knot if they could.

Then Mary was astonished and hurt.

"A clandestine marriage, Mr. Clifford!" said she. "I thought you had
more respect for me than to mention such a thing."

Then he had to beg her pardon, and say the separation had driven him mad.

Then she forgave him.

Then he took advantage of her clemency, and proceeded calmly to show her
it was their only chance.

Then Mary forgot how severely she had checked him, and merely said that
was the last thing she would consent to, and bound him on his honor never
to mention to Julia Clifford that he had proposed such a thing. Walter
promised that readily enough, but stuck to his point; and as Mary's pride
was wounded, and she was a girl of great spirit though love-sick, she
froze to him, and soon after said she was very sorry, but she must not
stay too long or papa would be angry. She then begged him not to come out
of the parlor, or the servant would see him.

"That is a trifle," said Walter. "I am going to obey you in greater
things than that. Ah! Mary, Mary, you don't love me as I love you!"

"No, Walter," said Mary, "I do not love you as you love me, for I respect
you." Then her lip trembled, and her eyes filled with tears.

Walter fell on his knees, and kissed her skirt several times; then ended
with he