sir? I am sure Edith did not, nor yet her mother.
But I believe these sort of things are often settled without
consulting the principals."

"And what does my brother say?"

"Sir Gregory, you mean?"

"Of course I mean Sir Gregory. I don't suppose you'd ask your
father."

"I never had the slightest intention, sir, of asking either one or
the other. I don't suppose that I am to ask his leave to be married,
like a young girl; and it isn't likely that any objection on family
grounds could be made to such a woman as Mary Lowther."

"You needn't ask leave of any one, most noble Hector. That is a
matter of course. You can marry the cook-maid to-morrow, if you
please. But I thought you meant to live at Dunripple?"

"So I shall,--part of the year; if Sir Gregory likes it."

"And that you were to have an allowance and all that sort of thing.
Now, if you do marry the cook-maid--"

"I am not going to marry the cook-maid,--as you know very well."

"Or if you marry any one else in opposition to my brother's wishes,
I don't suppose it likely that he'll bestow that which he intended to
give as a reward to you for following his wishes."

"He can do as he pleases. The moment that it was settled I told him."

"And what did he say?"

"He complained of headache. Sir Gregory very often does complain of
headache. When I took leave of him, he said I should hear from him."

"Then it's all up with Dunripple for you,--as long as he lives. I've
no doubt that since poor Gregory's death your father's interest
in the property has been disposed of among the Jews to the last
farthing."

"I shouldn't wonder."

"And you are,--just where you were, my boy."

"That depends entirely upon Sir Gregory. You may be sure of this,
sir,--that I shall ask him for nothing. If the worst comes to the
worst, I can go to the Jews as well as my father. I won't, unless I
am driven."

He was with Mary, of course, that evening, walking again along the
banks of the Lurwell, as they had first done now nearly twelve months
since. Then the autumn had begun, and now the last of the summer
months was near its close. How very much had happened to her, or had
seemed to happen, during the interval. At that time she had thrice
declined Harry Gilmore's suit; but she had done so without any weight
on her own conscience. Her friends had wished her to marry the man,
and therefore she had been troubled; but the trouble had lain light
upon her, and as she looked back