* * * * * Mary went immediately to her cousin's dressing-room, anxious to do away with any offended feeling her conduct might have excited. She found Mrs. de Burgh quite amicably disposed. She began immediately to rally Mary on the very clever manner in which she had managed her morning's amusement; she had seen Eugene Trevor, who had told her of the delightful walk they had taken together. "The fact is," Mrs. de Burgh continued, "I did not go to Montrevor after all. It was too far to go all alone--and returning I met Eugene, and we had a long chat." "He told you, I suppose," said Mary, "that he was going away." "Yes, for a month--what shall we do without him in the meantime? By the bye, I told him, Mary, of _your_ conduct this afternoon." "My conduct?" asked Mary in alarm. "Yes, your insurmountable objection to a drive to Montrevor." "Oh, Olivia!" in a tone of reproach. "Yes, I did, indeed; and do you know what he said to this?" "No, indeed," Mary anxiously replied. "He laughed quite scornfully and said: 'She shall go there some day,' then spurred his horse and rode off at full speed. Ha! ha! "'He laughs and he rides away.' Nay, Mary do not look offended. He did not intend anything _very_ insulting I dare say. Go dear, and rest yourself after this long walk Louis has dragged you, and which has made you look so pale." And thus dismissed, Mary went to her room, but not to take up her usual window-seat. There would be no interest in looking across the park that night. No--nor for a great many nights to come. Most of that next month passed without much outward change or excitement. Mrs. de Burgh declared that the extreme dulness made Mary look quite listless and ill. On the first of September, however, there was a shooting party, and a few other gaieties in the neighbourhood, the country houses beginning again to fill. Mary during this interval of time had received one piece of information, which rejoiced her greatly, if it did not succeed in making her so completely happy as she fancied it would have done a month or two before. Her brother Arthur wrote word, that he should be in England towards the end of the autumn. He gave no very flourishing account of their property and affairs. He spoke of the necessity for his entering into some profession, and of his wish of following up the study of the law. But all was written in as cheerful a strain as if his communication had been of a contrary nature. Who but the young can thus look cheerfully into the face of the grim monster poverty, and say "be welcome," feeling now that talents which had otherwise been weighed down beneath the deadening power of affluence, may now be given eagle wings wherewith to mount above to honour and renown? For as the German author writes: