usive
notions of her own; but I have no doubt of being able to remove
them."

"Try, by all means."

"You may depend on me for that," was Mrs. Martindale's encouraging
reply.

The evening of Mrs. Cameron's party soon came around. Mrs.
Martindale had been as good as her word, and managed to get Fenwick
invited, although he had never in his life met either Mr. or Mrs.
Cameron. But he had no delicate and manly scruples on the subject.
All he desired was to get invited; the way in which it was done was
of no consequence to him.

Mary Lester was seated by the side of her interested friend when the
young man entered. Her heart gave a quick bound as she saw him come
in, while a pleasant thrill pervaded her bosom. He at once advanced
toward them, while Mrs. Martindale rose, and after receiving him
with her blandest manner, presented him to Mary, so as to give him
an opportunity for being in her society at once. Both were, as might
very naturally be supposed, a good deal embarrassed, for each was
conscious that now a new relation existed between them. This their
very kind friend observed, and with much tact introduced subjects of
conversation, until she had paved the way, for a freer intercourse,
and then she left them alone for a brief period, not, however,
without carefully observing them, to see how they "got along
together," as she mentally expressed it.

She had little cause for further concern on this account, for
Fenwick had a smooth and ready tongue in his head, and five years
behind the counter of a retail dealer had taught him how to use it.
Instead of finding it necessary to prompt them, the wily Mrs.
Martindale soon discovered that her kind offices were needed to
restrain them a little, lest the evidence of their being too well
pleased with each other should be discovered by the company.

Two or three interviews more were all that were needed to bring
about a declaration from the young man. Previous to his taking this
step, however, Mrs. Martindale had fully prepared Mary's mind for
it.

"You own to me, Mary," said she, during one of the many
conversations now held with her on the subject of Fenwick's
attentions, "that you love him?"

"I do, Mrs. Martindale," the young lady replied, in a tone half sad,
leaning at the same time upon the shoulder of her friend. "But I am
conscious that I have been wrong in permitting my affections to
become so much interested without having consulted my mother."

"It will