older than you are, and have quite as much right to know my own mind."

Hereupon she took advantage of some little movement in his position, and,
tripping by him hastily, made good her escape into the house. Young
Carstairs, perceiving that his occasion for the present was over, went
into the yard and got upon his horse. He was by no means contented with
what he had done, but still he thought that he must have made her
understand his purpose.

Mary, when she found herself safe within her own room, could not refrain
from asking herself the question which her lover had asked her. "Could
she love him?" She didn't see any reason why she couldn't love him. It
would be very nice, she thought, to love him. He was sweet-tempered,
handsome, bright, and thoroughly good-humoured; and then his position in
the world was very high. Not for a moment did she tell herself that she
would love him. She did not understand all the differences in the world's
ranks quite as well as did her father, but still she felt that because of
his rank,--because of his rank and his youth combined,--she ought not to
allow herself to love him. There was no reason why the son of a peer
should not marry the daughter of a clergyman. The peer and the clergyman
might be equally gentlemen. But young Carstairs had been there in trust.
Lord Bracy had sent him there to be taught Latin and Greek, and had a
right to expect that he should not be encouraged to fall in love with his
tutor's daughter. It was not that she did not think herself good enough
to be loved by any young lord, but that she was too good to bring trouble
on the people who had trusted her father. Her father would despise her
were he to hear that she had encouraged the lad, or as some might say, had
entangled him. She did not know whether she should not have spoken to
Lord Carstairs more decidedly. But she could, at any rate, comfort
herself with the assurance that she had given him no encouragement. Of
course she must tell it all to her mother, but in doing so could declare
positively that she had given the young man no encouragement.

"It was very unfortunate that Lord Carstairs should have come just when I
was away," said Mrs. Wortle to her daughter as soon as they were alone
together.

"Yes, mamma; it was."

"And so odd. I haven't been away from home any day all the summer
before."

"He expected to find you."

"Of course he did. Had he anything particular to say!"

"Ye