depended on her love! She could see it now. With all her
desire to do right, she had done foul wrong in accepting Mr. Gilmore.
She had done foul wrong, though she had complied with the advice of
all her friends. It could not but have been wrong, as it had brought
her to this,--her and him. But for the future, she might yet be
right,--if she only knew how. That it would be wrong to marry Harry
Gilmore,--to think of marrying him when her heart was so stirred by
the letter which she held in her hand,--of that she was quite sure.
She had done the man an injury for which she could never atone. Of
that she was well aware. But the injury was done and could not now be
undone. And had she not told him when he came to her, that she would
even yet return to Walter Marrable if Walter Marrable were able to
take her?

She went down stairs, slowly, just before the hour for the children's
dinner, and found her friend, with one or two of the bairns, in the
garden. "Janet," she said, "I have had a letter from Dunripple."

Mrs. Fenwick looked into her face, and saw that it was sad and
sorrowful. "What news, Mary?"

"My cousin, Gregory Marrable, is--no more; he died on Sunday
morning." This was on the Tuesday.

"You expected it, I suppose, from your aunt's letter?"

"Oh, yes;--it has been sudden at last, it seems."

"And Sir Gregory?"

"He is pretty well. He is getting better."

"I pity him the loss of his son;--poor old man!" Mrs. Fenwick was far
too clever not to see that the serious, solemn aspect of Mary's face
was not due altogether to the death of a distant cousin, whom she
herself did not even remember;--but she was too wise, also, to refer
to what she presumed to be Mary's special grief at the moment. Mary
was doubtless thinking of the altered circumstances of her cousin
Walter; but it was as well now that she should speak as little as
possible about that cousin. Mrs. Fenwick could not turn altogether to
another subject, but she would, if possible, divert her friend from
her present thoughts. "Shall you go into mourning?" she asked; "he
was only your second cousin; but people have ideas so different about
those things."

"I do not know," said Mary, listlessly.

"If I were you, I would consult Mr. Gilmore. He has a right to be
consulted. If you do, it should be very slight."

"I shall go into mourning," said Mary, suddenly,--remembering at the
moment what was Walter's position in the household at Dunripple. Then
the