the door.
He was shown into the drawing-room, and in a few minutes Patience
came to him. There had been no arrangement between her and Mary as
to the manner in which he should be received. Mary on a previous
occasion had given him an answer, and really did believe that that
would be sufficient. He was, according to her thinking, a light,
inconstant man, who would hardly give himself the labour necessary
for perseverance in any suit. Patience at once began to ask him
after his brother and the doings at the Priory. He had been so
intimate at the house, and so dear to them all, that in spite of
the disapprobation with which he was now regarded by them, it was
impossible that there should not be some outer kindness. "Ah," said
he, "I do so look forward to the time when you will all be down
there. I have been so often welcome at your house, that it will be my
greatest pleasure to make you welcome there."

"We go so little from home," said Patience.

"But I am sure you will come to me. I know you would like to see
Greg's parsonage and Greg's church."

"I should indeed."

"It is the prettiest church, I think, in England, and the park is
very nice. The whole house wants a deal of doing to, but I shall set
about it some day. I don't know a pleasanter neighbourhood anywhere."
It would have been so natural that Patience should tell him that he
wanted a mistress for such a home; but she could not say the words.
She could not find the proper words, and soon left him, muttering
something as to directions for her father's room.

He had been alone for twenty minutes when Mary came into the room.
She knew that Patience was not there; and had retreated up-stairs.
But there seemed to be a cowardice in such retreating, which
displeased herself. She, at any rate, had no cause to be afraid of
Mr. Newton. So she collected her thoughts, and arranged her gait,
and went down, and addressed him with assumed indifference,--as
though there had never been anything between them beyond simple
acquaintance. "Uncle Thomas will be here soon, I suppose," she said.

"I hope he will give me half-an-hour first," Ralph answered. There
was an ease and grace always present in his intercourse with women,
and a power of saying that which he desired to say,--which perhaps
arose from the slightness of his purposes and the want of reality in
his character.

"We see so little of him that we hardly know his hours," said Mary.
"Uncle Thomas is a sad truant f