ary, when her mother came back from Mrs. Peacocke, "what am
I to say when he sends for me?"

"If you think that you can love him, my dear----"

"Oh, mamma, you shouldn't ask me!"

"My dear!"

"I do like him,--very much."

"If so----"

"But I never thought of it before;--and then, if he,--if he----"

"If he what, my dear?"

"If he were to change his mind?"

"Ah, yes;--there it is. It isn't as though you could be married in three
months' time."

"Oh, mamma! I shouldn't like that at all."

"Or even in six."

"Oh, no."

"Of course he is very young."

"Yes, mamma."

"And when a young man is so very young, I suppose he doesn't quite know
his own mind."

"No, mamma. But----"

"Well, my dear."

"His father says that he has got--such a strong will of his own," said
poor Mary, who was anxious, unconsciously anxious, to put in a good word
on her own side of the question, without making her own desire too
visible.

"He always had that. When there was any game to be played, he always
liked to have his own way. But then men like that are just as likely to
change as others."

"Are they, mamma?"

"But I do think that he is a lad of very high principle."

"Papa has always said that of him."

"And of fine generous feeling. He would not change like a weather-cock."

"If you think he would change at all, I would
rather,--rather,--rather----. Oh, mamma, why did you tell me?"

"My darling, my child, my angel! What am I to tell you? I do think of
all the young men I ever knew he is the nicest, and the sweetest, and the
most thoroughly good and affectionate."

"Oh, mamma, do you?" said Mary, rushing at her mother and kissing her and
embracing her.

"But if there were to be no regular engagement, and you were to let him
have your heart,--and then things were to go wrong!"

Mary left the embracings, gave up the kissings, and seated herself on the
sofa alone. In this way the morning was passed;--and when Mary was
summoned to her father's study, the mother and daughter had not arrived
between them at any decision.

"Well, my dear," said the Doctor, smiling, "what am I to say to the Earl?"

"Must you write to-day, papa?"

"I think so. His letter is one that should not be left longer unanswered.
Were we to do so, he would only think that we didn't know what to say for
ourselves."

"Would he, papa?"

"He would fancy that we are half-ashamed to accept what has been offered
to us, and yet anxio