nse that he counted upon her too
sweet: these things caught her up again and gave her a new patience and
a new subtlety. It shouldn't really be for nothing that she had given so
much; deep within her burned again the resolve to get something back. So
what she wrote to Owen was simply that she had had a great scene with
his mother, but that he must be patient and give her time. It was
difficult, as they both had expected, but she was working her hardest
for him. She had made an impression--she would do everything to follow
it up. Meanwhile he must keep intensely quiet and take no other steps;
he must only trust her and pray for her and believe in her perfect
loyalty. She made no allusion whatever to Mona's attitude, nor to his
not being, as regarded that young lady, master of the situation; but she
said in a postscript, in reference to his mother, "Of course she wonders
a good deal why your marriage doesn't take place." After the letter had
gone she regretted having used the word "loyalty;" there were two or
three milder terms which she might as well have employed. The answer she
immediately received from Owen was a little note of which she met all
the deficiencies by describing it to herself as pathetically simple, but
which, to prove that Mrs. Gereth might ask as many questions as she
liked, she at once made his mother read. He had no art with his pen, he
had not even a good hand, and his letter, a short profession of friendly
confidence, consisted of but a few familiar and colorless words of
acknowledgment and assent. The gist of it was that he would certainly,
since Miss Vetch recommended it, not hurry mamma too much. He would not
for the present cause her to be approached by any one else, but he would
nevertheless continue to hope that she would see she _must_ come round.
"Of course, you know," he added, "she can't keep me waiting
indefinitely. Please give her my love and tell her that. If it can be
done peaceably I know you're just the one to do it."

Fleda had awaited his rejoinder in deep suspense; such was her
imagination of the possibility of his having, as she tacitly phrased it,
let himself go on paper that when it arrived she was at first almost
afraid to open it. There was indeed a distinct danger, for if he should
take it into his head to write her love-letters the whole chance of
aiding him would drop: she would have to return them, she would have to
decline all further communication with him: it would be