"My dear," earnestly said Mrs. Gray, "pray leave that window; you will take cold. Miss O'Reilly, I dare say, will call to-morrow." "Had I not better write to her, Mrs. Gray, and tell her I am with you?" "No, my dear," replied Mrs. Gray, looking fidgety, "you must not do that, if you please. I dare say she will call tomorrow; pray leave the window." I obeyed the gentle injunction, but I had no faith in the hope held forth; I did not think Kate would come, and indeed she did not, nor on the following Sunday either. I again asked Mrs. Gray if I could not write to Miss O'Reilly, who, I felt sure, did not know where I was. "My dear," nervously said Mrs. Gray, "I fear that if Miss O'Reilly does not know it, it must be because Mr. Thornton did not wish her to know it. I should be very happy to see her, and I dare say she is a very charming person; but I must go by Mr. Thornton's wishes." All my entreaties could not induce her to alter her resolve. If I could have disobeyed her injunction I would, but open means I saw not, and hidden ones I had not the wit to devise; so I availed myself of the only permission she gave me--that of writing to Mr. Thornton, asking his leave to see my friends. Mrs. Gray sent the letter to his solicitors, but either it did not reach him, or he did not think it worthy his attention, for he never answered it. I saw how foolish I had been to place myself under his control, and the thought that I had myself done it, and was perhaps severed for ever from Cornelius and Kate, ended by affecting my health. In my grief I had said that if I only knew how they were, I should not mind so much not seeing them. Mrs. Gray eagerly caught at this, and offered to ascertain the matter. I gave her the names of the chief tradespeople with whom Miss O'Reilly dealt, and she set off one afternoon on her errand. She stayed away two hours, and returned with a cheerful face. "Well," she said, sitting down and smiling at my eager look, "I have learned everything. I called in at Parkins the baker, and asked Mrs. Parkins if she knew an Irish family of the name of MacMahon (that was not a story, you know, dear, because there are Irish MacMahons; indeed I knew three myself, though I cannot say they lived in the Grove), to which Mrs. Parkins replied, she did not know any MacMahons, and the only Irish family who dealt with her were a Mr. and Miss O'Reilly; Mrs. O'Reilly that was to be, would, she hoped, also give her her custom in time; I asked what sort of a person she was. Fair and handsome, and Mr. O'Reilly and his sister dark, but also very handsome. I said I did not think they could be the MacMahons, who were all red-haired; and thanking Mrs. Parkins, I came back. I hope, my dear, you will not fret after such good tidings; for if Mr. O'Reilly is going to get married, he cannot be very poorly nor his sister either; and I am sure you are too sensible to care about the bride-cake; so it is all right, you see."