ess yourself again. If you do, it will be an insult."
Then she rose up, queenly in her beauty, and slowly left the room.

There must be an end of that. Such was Ralph's feeling as she
left the room, in spite of those protestations of constancy and
persistence which he had made to himself. "A fellow has to go on with
it, and be refused half a dozen times by one of those proud ones," he
had said; "but when they do knuckle under, they go in harness better
than the others." It was thus that he had thought of Mary Bonner, but
he did not so think of her now. No, indeed. There was an end of that.
"There is a sort of way of doing it, which shows that they mean it."
Such was his inward speech; and he did believe that Miss Bonner meant
it. "By Jove, yes; if words and looks ever can mean anything." But
how about Clarissa? If it was so, as Mary Bonner had told him, would
it be the proper kind of thing for him to go back to Clarissa? His
heart, too,--for he had a heart,--was very soft. He had always been
fond of Clarissa, and would not, for worlds, that she should be
unhappy. How pretty she was, and how soft, and how loving! And how
proudly happy she would be to be driven about the Newton grounds by
him as their mistress. Then he remembered what Gregory had said to
him, and how he had encouraged Gregory to persevere. If anything of
that kind were to happen, Gregory must put up with it. It was clear
that Clarissa couldn't marry Gregory if she were in love with him.
But how would he look Sir Thomas in the face? As he thought of this
he laughed. Sir Thomas, however, would be glad enough to give his
daughter, not to the heir but to the owner of Newton. Who could be
that fellow whom Mary Bonner preferred to him--with all Newton to
back his suit? Perhaps Mary Bonner did not know the meaning of being
the mistress of Newton Priory.

After a while the servant came to show him to his chamber. Sir Thomas
had come and had gone at once to his room. So he went up-stairs and
dressed, expecting to see Clarissa when they all assembled before
dinner. When he went down, Sir Thomas was there, and Mary, and
Patience,--but not Clarissa. He had summoned back his courage and
spoke jauntily to Sir Thomas. Then he turned to Patience and asked
after her sister. "Clarissa is spending the day with Mrs. Brownlow,"
said Patience, "and will not be home till quite late."

"Oh, how unfortunate!" exclaimed Ralph. Taking all his difficulties
into consideration, we