it was a pity that he should be so much the elder.
And he knew that he was old of his age,--such a one as a girl like
Mary Lawrie could hardly be brought to love passionately. He brought
up against himself all the hard facts as sternly as could any younger
rival. He looked at himself in the glass over and over again, and
always gave the verdict against his own appearance. There was nothing
to recommend him. So he told himself,--judging of himself most
unfairly. He set against himself as evils little points by which
Mary's mind and Mary's judgment would never be affected. But in truth
throughout it all he thought only of her welfare. But there came upon
him constantly an idea that he hardly knew how to be as good to her
as he would have been had it not been for Catherine Bailey. To have
attempted twice, and twice to have failed so disastrously! He was a
man to whom to have failed once in such a matter was almost death.
How should he bear it twice and still live? Nevertheless he did
endeavour to think only of her welfare. "You won't find it cold, my
dear?" he said.

"Cold! Why, Mr Whittlestaff, it's quite hot."

"I meant hot. I did mean to say hot."

"I've got my parasol."

"Oh!--ah!--yes; so I perceive. Go on, Tommy. That foolish old woman
will settle down at last, I think." To this Mary could make no
answer, because, according to her ideas, Mrs Baggett's settling down
must depend on her master's marriage. "I think it very civil of Mr
Hall asking us in this way."

"I suppose it is."

"Because you may be sure he had heard of your former acquaintance
with him."

"Do you think so?"

"Not a doubt about it. He said as much to me in his note. That young
clergyman of his will have told him everything. 'Percontatorem fugito
nam garrulus idem est.' I've taught you Latin enough to understand
that. But, Mary, if you wish to change your mind, this will be your
last opportunity." His heart at that moment had been very tender
towards her, and she had resolved that hers should be very firm to
him.

CHAPTER XV.

MR WHITTLESTAFF GOES OUT TO DINNER.

This would be her last opportunity. So Mary told herself as she got
out of the carriage at Mr Hall's front door. It was made manifest to
her by such a speech that he did not expect that she should do so,
but looked upon her doing so as within the verge of possibility. She
could still do it, and yet not encounter his disgust or his horror.
How terrible was the importa