By a strange association of ideas, to which we are all subject, Easter and Oxford presented themselves to his mind, and the involuntary sigh that followed a recollection of the fact that in less than a week he should be miles away from Mary Armstrong, changed the whole current of his thoughts. "How absurdly I am allowing my mind to dwell upon this young lady!" he said to himself. "A man so rich as her father will of course wish her to marry a man of wealth, and one equal in position to her mother's relations. I might lay claim to the latter qualification, but what shall I be at the end of my three years at Oxford? an usher in my father's school, or a curate with an income of perhaps 100_l._ a year or less. I will think of her no more!" CHAPTER XIV. AN UNEXPECTED JOURNEY. Whatever impression might have been made by Mr. Henry Halford's cleverness on the mind of Mary Armstrong was destined to be obliterated by the most unlooked-for occurrence. One evening, about a fortnight after Easter, Mr. Armstrong returned at an unusually early hour, and entered the library, where Mary and her mother were seated, with a look of anxiety on his face which surprised them both. He held a letter in his hand, and his wife asked nervously-- "What is the matter, Edward? you have no bad news about the boys, I hope." "No, no," he said hastily, "but I have had a letter from John Armstrong; my poor father, he says, is sinking fast, and wishes to see me once more." "Oh, papa, when are you going?" cried Mary, "can I pack your carpet bag, or prepare anything for you? I suppose you will go this evening?" "I should have gone direct from London, after sending you a telegram," he replied, "but my father wishes me to bring Mary; have you any objection, my dear?" he added, turning to his wife. "No, indeed," she replied, "take her with you by all means; I remember how pleased the dear old gentleman was with his little granddaughter when we paid him a visit fifteen years ago." Mary, who had risen when she offered to assist in preparing for her father's hasty departure, stood still during this conversation in silent astonishment. Rapid thoughts passed through her mind. Was she really going to see the dear old grandfather, of whom she had so often heard her mother speak, and beautiful Meadow Farm, the home of her father's childhood, and the house in which he was born? So bewildered did she feel at the sudden news, that her mother had to say-- "Do you not wish to accompany your father, Mary?" "Oh yes, yes, mamma, but it seems too good to be true." "You must be quick, Mary, if you wish to go," said her father, looking at his watch; "I have ordered James to have the brougham at the door by half-past three, and the train starts from Waterloo at 4.30."