t ask me why I came away? And is it usual
for a young lady to say "Mr." to the man she means to marry?

MARY. That is for the young lady to decide, sir.

LESLIE. And against that judgment there shall be no appeal?

MARY. O, if you mean to argue!----

LESLIE. I do not mean to argue. I am content to love and be loved. I
think I am the happiest man in the world.

MARY. That is as it should be; for I am the happiest girl.

LESLIE. Why not say the happiest wife? I have your word, and you have
mine. Is not that enough?

MARY. Have you so soon forgotten? Did I not tell you how it must be as
my brother wills? I can do only as he bids me.

LESLIE. Then you have not spoken as you promised?

MARY. I have been too happy to speak.

LESLIE. I am his friend. Precious as you are, he will trust you to me.
He has but to know how I love you, Mary, and how your life is all in
your love of me, to give us his blessing with a full heart.

MARY. I am sure of him. It is that which makes my happiness complete.
Even to our marriage I should find it hard to say "Yes" when he said
"No."

LESLIE. Your father is trying to speak. I'll wager he echoes you.

MARY (_to OLD BRODIE_). My poor dearie! Do you want to say anything to
me? No? Is it to Mr. Leslie, then?

LESLIE. I am listening, Mr. Brodie.

MARY. What is it, daddie?

OLD BRODIE. My son--the Deacon--Deacon Brodie--the first at school.

LESLIE. I know it, Mr. Brodie. Was I not the last in the same class?
(_To MARY._) But he seems to have forgotten us.

MARY. O, yes! his mind is wellnigh gone. He will sit for hours as you
see him, and never speak nor stir but at the touch of Will's hand or the
sound of Will's name.

LESLIE. It is so good to sit beside you. By and by it will always be
like this. You will not let me speak to the Deacon? You are fast set
upon speaking yourself? I could be so eloquent, Mary--I would touch
him. I cannot tell you how I fear to trust my happiness to any one
else--even to you.

MARY. He must hear of my good fortune from none but me. And, besides,
you do not understand. We are not like other families, we Brodies. We
are so clannish, we hold so close together.

LESLIE. You Brodies, and your Deacon!

OLD BRODIE. Deacon of his craft, sir--Deacon of the Wrights--my son! If
his mother--his mother--had but lived to see!

MARY. You hear how he runs on. A word about my brother and he catches
it. 'Tis as if he were awake in his poor blind way to all the