at I could not think of such things now,' said Mary,
almost indignantly.

'And he?'

'He begged my pardon, and said he only did it because he thought it
might be a relief to you.'

'Only; did he say 'only?'

'I am not sure. At least,' she added, with a deep sigh, 'I thought he
meant only--'

'And you, my dearest, if you had not thought he meant _only_?'

'Don't ask me, mamma; I cannot think about it!'

'Mary, dearest, I do wish to understand you.'

'Is it of any use for me to ask myself?' said Mary.

'I think it is. I do not say that there might not be insuperable
obstacles; but I believe we ought to know whether you are still
indifferent to Louis.'

'Oh, that I never was! Nobody could be!'

'You know what I mean,' said her mother, slightly smiling.

'Mamma, I don't know what to say,' replied Mary, after a pause. 'I had
thought it wrong to let my thoughts take that course; but when he spoke
in his own soft, gentle voice, I felt, and I can't help it,
that--he--could--comfort--me--better--than--any one.'

Not hesitating, but slowly, almost inaudibly, she brought out the
words; and, as the tears gushed out irrepressibly with the last, she
hastened from the room, and was seen no more till she had recovered
composure, and seemed to have dismissed the subject.

Louis kept this second attempt a secret; he was not quite sure how he
felt, and did not wish to discuss his rejection. At breakfast, he
received a note from Mrs. Ponsonby, begging him to come to the Terrace
at three o'clock; and the hope thus revived made him more
conversational than he had been all the former day.

He found that Mary was out walking, and he was at once conducted to
Mrs. Ponsonby's room, where he looked exceedingly rosy and confused,
till she began by holding out her hand, and saying, 'I wish to thank
you.'

'I am afraid I vexed Mary,' said Louis, with more than his usual
simplicity; 'but do you think there is no hope? I knew it was a bad
time, but I thought it might make you more at ease on her account.'

'You meant all that was most kind.'

'I thought I might just try,' pursued he, disconsolately, 'whether she
did think me any steadier. I hope she did not think me very
troublesome. I tried not to harass her much.'

'My dear Louis, it is not a question of what you call steadiness. It
is the old story of last summer, when you thought us old ones so much
more romantic than yourself.'

'You are thinking of Miss Conway,