ctor, who now
visited Boxall Hill more frequently than ever, began to have some
hopes.

One constant subject, I must not say of conversation, on the part
of Lady Scatcherd, but rather of declamation, had hitherto been the
beauty and manly attributes of Frank Gresham. She had hardly ceased
to talk to Mary of the infinite good qualities of the young squire,
and especially of his prowess in the matter of Mr Moffat. Mary had
listened to all this eloquence, not perhaps with inattention, but
without much reply. She had not been exactly sorry to hear Frank
talked about; indeed, had she been so minded, she could herself have
said something on the same subject; but she did not wish to take Lady
Scatcherd altogether into her confidence, and she had been unable to
say much about Frank Gresham without doing so. Lady Scatcherd had,
therefore, gradually conceived the idea that her darling was not a
favourite with her guest.

Now, therefore, she changed the subject; and, as her own son was
behaving with such unexampled propriety, she dropped Frank and
confined her eulogies to Louis. He had been a little wild, she
admitted; young men so often were so; but she hoped that it was now
over.

"He does still take a little drop of those French drinks in the
morning," said Lady Scatcherd, in her confidence; for she was too
honest to be false, even in her own cause. "He does do that, I know:
but that's nothing, my dear, to swilling all day; and everything
can't be done at once, can it, Miss Thorne?"

On this subject Mary found her tongue loosened. She could not talk
about Frank Gresham, but she could speak with hope to the mother of
her only son. She could say that Sir Louis was still very young; that
there was reason to trust that he might now reform; that his present
conduct was apparently good; and that he appeared capable of better
things. So much she did say; and the mother took her sympathy for
more than it was worth.

On this matter, and on this matter perhaps alone, Sir Louis and Lady
Scatcherd were in accord. There was much to recommend Mary to the
baronet; not only did he see her to be beautiful, and perceive her
to be attractive and ladylike; but she was also the niece of the man
who, for the present, held the purse-strings of his wealth. Mary, it
is true, had no fortune. But Sir Louis knew that she was acknowledged
to be a lady; and he was ambitious that his "lady" should be a lady.
There was also much to recommend Mary to t