nfair
that her very words should be quoted against her, as to the three or
four months, feeling that she had said three or four instead of six
or seven to soften the matter to her friend; but, nevertheless, she
had been induced to write to Mary Lowther.

"I was thinking that perhaps you might ask her to come to you
again," Mr. Gilmore had said when Mrs. Fenwick rebuked him for his
impatience. "If you did that, the thing might come on naturally."

"But she wouldn't come if I did ask her."

"Because she hates me so much that she will not venture to come near
me?"

"What nonsense that is, Harry. It has nothing to do with hating. If I
thought that she even disliked you, I should tell you so, believing
that it would be for the best. But of course if I asked her here
just at present, she could not but remember that you are our nearest
neighbour, and feel that she was pressed to come with some reference
to your hopes."

"And therefore she would not come?"

"Exactly; and if you will think of it, how could it be otherwise?
Wait till he is in India. Wait at any rate till the summer, and then
Frank and I will do our best to get her here."

"I will wait," said Mr. Gilmore, and immediately took his leave, as
though there were no other subject of conversation now possible to
him.

Since his return from Loring, Mr. Gilmore's life at his own house had
been quite secluded. Even the Fenwicks had hardly seen him, though
they lived so near to him. He had rarely been at church, had seen no
company at home since his uncle, the prebendary, had left him, and
had not dined even at the Vicarage more than once or twice. All this
had of course been frequently discussed between Mr. and Mrs. Fenwick,
and had made the Vicar very unhappy. He had expressed a fear that
his friend would be driven half crazy by a foolish indulgence in a
hopeless passion, and had suggested that it might perhaps be for the
best that Gilmore should let his place and travel abroad for two
or three years, so that, in that way, his disappointment might be
forgotten. But Mrs. Fenwick still hoped better things than this. She
probably thought more of Mary Lowther than she did of Harry Gilmore,
and still believed that a cure for both their sorrows might be found,
if one would only be patient, and the other would not despair.

Mr. Gilmore had promised that he would wait, and then Mrs. Fenwick
had written her letter. To this there came a very quick answer. In
respect to