he sly, as we may call it,
but nevertheless there had been a project in his mind, and fortune had
favoured him. He was now about nineteen, and had been treated for the
last twelve months almost as though he had been a man. It had seemed to
him that there was no possible reason why he should not fall in love as
well as another. Nothing more sweet, nothing more lovely, nothing more
lovable than Mary Wortle had he ever seen. He had almost made up his mind
to speak on two or three occasions before he left Bowick; but either his
courage or the occasion had failed him. Once, as he was walking home with
her from church, he had said one word;--but it had amounted to nothing.
She had escaped from him before she was bound to understand what he meant.
He did not for a moment suppose that she had understood anything. He was
only too much afraid that she regarded him as a mere boy. But when he had
been away from Bowick two months he resolved that he would not be regarded
as a mere boy any longer. Therefore he took an opportunity of going to
Buttercup, which he certainly would not have done for the sake of the
Momsons or for the sake of the cricket.

He ate his lunch before he said a word, and then, with but poor grace,
submitted to the lawn-tennis with Talbot and Monk. Even to his youthful
mind it seemed that Talbot and Monk were brought in on purpose. They were
both of them boys he had liked, but he hated them now. However, he played
his game, and when that was over, managed to get rid of them, sending them
back through the gate to the school-ground.

"I think I must say good-bye now," said Mary, "because there are ever so
many things in the house which I have got to do."

"I am going almost immediately," said the young lord.

"Papa will be so sorry not to have seen you." This had been said once or
twice before.

"I came over," he said, "on purpose to see you."

They were now standing on the middle of the lawn, and Mary had assumed a
look which intended to signify that she expected him to go. He knew the
place well enough to get his own horse, or to order the groom to get it
for him. But instead of that, he stood his ground, and now declared his
purpose.

"To see me, Lord Carstairs!"

"Yes, Miss Wortle. And if the Doctor had been here, or your mother, I
should have told them."

"Have told them what?" she asked. She knew; she felt sure that she knew;
and yet she could not refrain from the question.

"I ha