"Well, I said you were not at home, and that is every word; he didn't give me time to say any more for questioning of me about her health." "That's lucky," said Mrs. Easton, dryly. "Thank Heaven, there's no harm done; he sha'n't see the carriage." "Dear me, nurse," said Mary, "all this time I'm longing to see him." "Well, you shall see him, if you won't own to having been a night from home." Mary promised, and went eagerly to Mr. Hope. It did not come natural to her to be afraid of him, and she was impatient for the day to come when she might tell him the whole story. The reception he gave her was not of a nature to discourage this feeling; his pale face--for he had been very ill--flushed at sight of her, his eyes poured affection upon her, and he held out both hands to her. "This the pale girl they frightened me about!" said he. "Why, you're like the roses in July." "That's partly with seeing of you, sir," said Mrs. Easton, quietly following, "but we do take some credit to ourselves too; for Miss Mary _was_ rather pale when she came here a week ago; but la, young folks want a change now and then." "Nurse," said Mary, "I really was not well, and you have done wonders for me, and I hope you won't think me ungrateful, but I _must_ go home with Mr. Hope." Hope's countenance flushed with delight, and Mrs. Easton saw in a moment that Mary's affection was co-operating with her prudence. "I thought that would be her first word, sir," said she. "Why, of course you will, miss. There, don't you take any trouble; we'll pack up your things and put them in the dog-cart; but you must eat a morsel both of you before you go. There's a beautiful piece of beef in the pot, not oversalted, and some mealy potatoes and suet dumplings. You sit down and have your chat, whilst Polly and I get everything ready for you." Then Mary asked Mr. Hope so many questions with such eager affection that he had no time to ask her any, and then she volunteered the home news, especially of Colonel Clifford's condition, and then she blushed and asked him if he had said anything to her father about Walter Clifford. "Not much," said Mr. Hope. "You are very young, Mary, and it's not for me to interfere, and I won't interfere. But if you want my opinion, why, I admire the young man extremely. I always liked him; he is a straightforward, upright, manly, good-hearted chap, and has lots of plain good sense--Heaven knows where he got it!" This eulogy was interrupted by Mary putting a white hand and a perfect nose upon Hope's shoulder, and kissing the cloth thereon. "What," said Hope, tenderly, and yet half sadly--for he knew that all middle-aged men must now be second--"have I found the way to your heart?" "You always knew that, Mr. Hope," said Mary, softly; "especially since my escapade in that horrid brook."