ou have for this stick,
simply because he is persistent in asking you? No more than you have
for this stick, Mary. What sort of a feeling must it be, when you say
that you would willingly see him married to any other girl to-morrow?
Can that be love?"

"I have never loved any one better."

"And never will?"

"How can I say? It seems to me that I haven't got the feeling that
other girls have. I want some one to love me;--I do. I own that. I
want to be first with some one; but I have never found the one yet
that I cared for."

"You had better wait till you find him," said he, raising himself up
on his arm. "Come, let us get up and go home. You have asked me for
my advice, and I have given it you. Do not throw yourself away upon
a man because other people ask you, and because you think you might
as well oblige them and oblige him. If you do, you will soon live to
repent it. What would you do, if after marrying this man you found
there was some one you could love?"

"I do not think it would come to that, Walter."

"How can you tell? How can you prevent its coming to that, except
by loving the man you do marry? You don't care two straws for Mr.
Gilmore; and I cannot understand how you can have the courage to
think of becoming his wife. Let us go home. You have asked my advice,
and you've got it. If you do not take it, I will endeavour to forget
that I gave it you."

Of course she would take it. She did not tell him so then; but, of
course, he should guide her. With how much more accuracy, with how
much more delicacy of feeling had he understood her position, than
had her other friends! He had sympathised with her at a word. He
spoke to her sternly, severely, almost cruelly. But it was thus that
she had longed to be spoken to by some one who would care enough for
her, would take sufficient interest in her, to be at the trouble so
to advise her. She would trust him as a brother, and his words should
be sweet to her, were they ever so severe.

They walked together home in silence, and his very manner was stern
to her; but it might be just thus that a loving brother would carry
himself who had counselled his sister wisely, and had not as yet been
assured that his counsel would be taken.

"Walter," she said, as they neared the town, "I hope you have no
doubt about it."

"Doubt about what, Mary?"

"It is quite a matter of course that I shall do as you tell me."

CHAPTER XVII.

THE MARQUIS OF TROWBRIDGE.