us to take it."

"I am not ashamed of anything."

"No, my dear; you have no reason."

"Nor have you, papa."

"Nor have I. That is quite true. I have never been wont to be ashamed of
myself;--nor do I think that you ever will have cause to be ashamed of
yourself. Therefore, why should we hesitate? Shall I help you, my
darling, in coming to a decision on the matter?"

"Yes, papa."

"If I can understand your heart on this matter, it has never as yet been
given to this young man."

"No, papa." This Mary said not altogether with that complete power of
asseveration which the negative is sometimes made to bear.

"But there must be a beginning to such things. A man throws himself into
it headlong,--as my Lord Carstairs seems to have done. At least all the
best young men do." Mary at this point felt a great longing to get up and
kiss her father; but she restrained herself. "A young woman, on the other
hand, if she is such as I think you are, waits till she is asked. Then it
has to begin." The Doctor, as he said this, smiled his sweetest smile.

"Yes, papa."

"And when it has begun, she does not like to blurt it out at once, even to
her loving old father."

"Papa!"

"That's about it, isn't it? Haven't I hit it off?" He paused, as though
for a reply, but she was not as yet able to make him any. "Come here, my
dear." She came and stood by him, so that he could put his arm round her
waist. "If it be as I suppose, you are better disposed to this young man
than you are likely to be to any other, just at present."

"Oh yes, papa."

"To all others you are quite indifferent?"

"Yes,--indeed, papa."

"I am sure you are. But not quite indifferent to this one? Give me a
kiss, my darling, and I will take that for your speech." Then she kissed
him,--giving him her very best kiss. "And now, my child, what shall I say
to the Earl?"

"I don't know, papa."

"Nor do I, quite. I never do know what to say till I've got the pen in my
hand. But you'll commission me to write as I may think best?"

"Oh yes, papa."

"And I may presume that I know your mind?"

"Yes, papa."

"Very well. Then you had better leave me, so that I can go to work with
the paper straight before me, and my pen fixed in my fingers. I can never
begin to think till I find myself in that position." Then she left him,
and went back to her mother.

"Well, my dear," said Mrs. Wortle.

"He is going to write to Lord Bracy."

"But