“Oh, my darling!” the curate said, “it would have been better if I had not told you. It would have been better if I had gone away, and smothered my heart or myself, if necessary, rather than have brought this trouble on you.” “Trouble!” she cried, and laughed. Mary was not a bit afraid. She was as ignorant as the bird who was singing little saucy songs and melodious gibes at them overhead, calling on all his bird neighbours to make fun of the lovers, who had waited for June and full summer, instead of building their nests like prudent folk in the early spring. Mary knew about as much as the thrush did on the subject of ways and means--and she was not afraid. “They will not hear me speak,” he said; “they will ask me how I could dare to think of dragging you down into my poverty? I know that is what they will do--and they will be right,” he added with a great sigh. Mary paused a little in surprise, and then she asked, “I wonder what you think I am? Do you think I am rich?” “No,” he said, pressing her hand close to his side. “Thank heaven! I know you are not rich.” “I see very little to thank heaven about,” said Mary, “on that score: perhaps you think that I have great prospects, or that somebody is going to leave me a great deal of money, or--something. Why, I have not a penny in the world! And my aunt is always shaking her head and saying, ‘If anything happens to your uncle!’ Do you know what I should have to do then? I should have to go out as a governess, if anybody would have me to teach their children--or perhaps as a maid in the nursery.” “Oh, hush!” he cried. “You a maid in the nursery! But, Mary darling, you would be almost better as a governess than you will be with me. Do you know how much I have a year? A hundred pounds and my lodging, and I don’t know where I am to get any more.” “A hundred pounds! I never had a hundred shillings of my own. It seems quite a great sum,” said Mary. “I should think we could do very well upon that. We must have a cottage of our own though. I have often thought a cottage might be made very pretty if one were to take a little trouble. I should like it so much better than a big house.” “Oh, Mary, you little angel! You have just come astray out of heaven, and you know nothing about this hard world,” he cried. “Oh, don’t I?” said Mary, with a laugh of superior wisdom,--“much more than you do, I am sure, though you are so much cleverer than I. We could not have many servants, that’s true. But what is the good of them--except to get in each other’s way, and make aunt cross? I’ll tell you what I shall have. I’ll have a nice strong big girl out of the schools, and train her myself: and you’ll see, after a while, all the ladies will be contending to get one of the girls whom Mrs. ----” Here Mary paused, and blushed redder than ever, and with a cough turned her head away.