“I know the pony better than you do,” Dr Mitford said, shaking his head, “and he wants a man’s hand. My dear, you must be content to wait your good father here.” The Doctor was the only one who appeared unmoved. He had put on all his usual decorous solemnity along with his fresh stiff white tie, and highly-polished creaking boots. But even he made no allusion to the changed state of affairs. Sometimes Kate felt as if she must laugh, sometimes as if she must cry, sometimes disposed to be angry, sometimes wounded. She was glad to escape from the table to the garden, where John found her--glad, poor fellow, to escape too. And then, as they wandered among the rose-bushes arm-in-arm, she found out how it was. “But they have no right to be so hard on you,” cried Kate, impetuously. “Suppose you had never seen me or thought of me--would it be right to be a clergyman, just like a trade, when you felt you could not in your heart----” “My Kate!--you understand me at least; that is what I said.” “And when you can do so much better for yourself,” said Kate, with emphasis. “Mrs Mitford and the Doctor should think of that. One way you never could have been anything but a clergyman; while the other way--why, you may be anything, John.” He shook his head over her, half sadly, half pleased. He knew his capacities were far from being beyond limit, but still that she should think so was pleasant. And then there was the sense, which was sweet, that he and she, spending the summer morning among the flowers, were a little faction in arms against the world, with a mutual grievance, mutual difficulties, a cause to maintain against everybody. Solitude _à deux_ is sweet, and selfishness _à deux_ has a way of looking half sublime. It was the first time either of them had experienced this infinitely seductive sentiment. They talked over the hardness of the father and mother, with a kind of delight in thus feeling all the world to be against them. “They cannot blame me, for you were thinking of that before you ever saw me,” said Kate. “Blame you! it is one thing the more I have to love you for,” said John. “I should never have been awakened to free myself but for you, my darling. I should have gone stupidly on under the sway of custom.” And for the moment he believed what he said. Oh, what a difference it made! the wide world before him where to choose, and this creature, whom he loved more than all the world, leaning on him, putting her fate in his hands; instead of the dull routine of parish duties, and the dull home life, and the stagnation around, and all his uneasy restless thoughts.