r hand. "Oh, don't harbor such a thought as that!" said he.

She sobbed, but made no reply.

They parted good friends, but chilled.

That made them both unhappy to think of.

It was only two, or at the most three, days after this that, as Mary was
walking in the garden, a nosegay fell at her feet. She picked it up, and
immediately found a note half secreted in it. The next moment it was
entirely secreted in her bosom. She sauntered in-doors, and scudded
upstairs to her room to read it.

The writer told her in a few agitated words that their fathers had met,
and he must speak to her directly. Would she meet him for a moment at the
garden gate at nine o'clock that evening?

"No, no, no!" cried Mary, as if he was there. She was frightened. Suppose
they should be caught. The shame--the disgrace. But oh, the temptation!
Well, then, how wrong of him to tempt her! She must not go. There was no
time to write and refuse; but she must not go. She would not go. And in
this resolution she persisted. Nine o'clock struck, and she never moved.
Then she began to picture Walter's face of disappointment and his
unhappiness. At ten minutes past nine she tied a handkerchief round her
head and went.

There he was at the gate, pale and agitated. He did not give her time to
scold him.

"Pray forgive me," he said; "but I saw no other way. It is all over,
Mary, unless you love me as I love you."

"Don't begin by doubting me," she said. "Tell me, dear."

"It is soon told. Our fathers have met at that wretched pit, and the
foreman has told me what passed between them. My father complained that
mining for coal was not husbandry, and it was very unfair to do it, and
to smoke him out of house and home. (Unfortunately the wind was west, and
blew the smoke of the steam-engine over his lawn.) Your father said he
took the farm under that express stipulation. Colonel Clifford said, 'No;
the condition was smuggled in.' 'Then smuggle it out,' said Mr. Bartley."

"Oh!"

"If it had only ended there, Mary. But they were both in a passion, and
must empty their hearts. Colonel Clifford said he had every respect for
you, but had other views for his son. Mr. Bartley said he was thankful to
hear it, for he looked higher for his daughter. 'Higher in trade, I
suppose,' said my father; 'the Lord Mayor's nephew.' 'Well,' said Mr.
Bartley, 'I would rather marry her to money than to mortgages.' And the
end of it was they parted enemies for life."

"No, n