ve no
hope?"

Mary shook her head.

"But if he braved all the difficulties of getting his bread in some
other way--will you give him the support of hope? May he count on
winning you?"

"I think Fred ought not to need telling again what I have already said
to him," Mary answered, with a slight resentment in her manner. "I
mean that he ought not to put such questions until he has done
something worthy, instead of saying that he could do it."

Mr. Farebrother was silent for a minute or more, and then, as they
turned and paused under the shadow of a maple at the end of a grassy
walk, said, "I understand that you resist any attempt to fetter you,
but either your feeling for Fred Vincy excludes your entertaining
another attachment, or it does not: either he may count on your
remaining single until he shall have earned your hand, or he may in any
case be disappointed. Pardon me, Mary--you know I used to catechise
you under that name--but when the state of a woman's affections touches
the happiness of another life--of more lives than one--I think it would
be the nobler course for her to be perfectly direct and open."

Mary in her turn was silent, wondering not at Mr. Farebrother's manner
but at his tone, which had a grave restrained emotion in it. When the
strange idea flashed across her that his words had reference to
himself, she was incredulous, and ashamed of entertaining it. She had
never thought that any man could love her except Fred, who had espoused
her with the umbrella ring, when she wore socks and little strapped
shoes; still less that she could be of any importance to Mr.
Farebrother, the cleverest man in her narrow circle. She had only time
to feel that all this was hazy and perhaps illusory; but one thing was
clear and determined--her answer.

"Since you think it my duty, Mr. Farebrother, I will tell you that I
have too strong a feeling for Fred to give him up for any one else. I
should never be quite happy if I thought he was unhappy for the loss of
me. It has taken such deep root in me--my gratitude to him for always
loving me best, and minding so much if I hurt myself, from the time
when we were very little. I cannot imagine any new feeling coming to
make that weaker. I should like better than anything to see him worthy
of every one's respect. But please tell him I will not promise to
marry him till then: I should shame and grieve my father and mother.
He is free to choose some one else."