have been borne in on him again and again, for Mary awoke the next
morning as thoroughly, foolishly, deeply in love as woman could be, and
went about comporting herself in the most comically commonplace style,
forgetting and neglecting everything, not hearing nor seeing, making
absurd mistakes, restless whenever Mr. Cheviot was not present, and
then perfectly content if he came to sit by her, as he always did; for
his courtship--now it had fairly begun--was equally exclusive and
determined. Every day they walked or rode together, almost every
evening he came and sat by her, and on each holiday they engrossed the
drawing-room, Mary looking prettier than she had ever been seen before;
Aubrey and Gertrude both bored and critical; Harry treating the whole
as a pantomime got up for his special delectation, and never betokening
any sense that Mary was neglecting him. It was the greatest help to
Ethel in keeping up the like spirit, under the same innocent
unconscious neglect from the hitherto devoted Mary, who was only
helpful in an occasional revival of mechanical instinct in lucid
intervals, and then could not be depended on. To laugh good-naturedly
and not bitterly, to think the love-making pretty and not foolish, to
repress Gertrude's saucy scorn, instead of encouraging it, would have
been far harder without the bright face of the brother who generously
surrendered instead of repining.

She never told herself that there was no proportion between the trials,
not only because her spirits still suffered from the ever-present load
of pity at her heart, nor because the loss would be hourly to her, but
also because Charles Cheviot drew Harry towards him, but kept her at a
distance, or more truly laughed her down. She was used to be laughed
at; her ways had always been a matter of amusement to her brothers, and
perhaps it was the natural assumption of brotherhood to reply to any
suggestion or remark of hers with something intended for drollery, and
followed with a laugh, which, instead of as usual stirring her up to
good-humoured repartee, suppressed her, and made her feel foolish and
awkward. As to Flora's advice, to behave with tact, she could not if
she would, she would not if she could; in principle she tried to
acquiesce in a man's desire to show that he meant to have his wife to
himself, and in practice she accepted his extinguisher because she
could not help it.

Mr. Cheviot was uneasy about the chances of Aubrey's