He sat down beside her, while Mary and Hester--who, on her introduction to Mrs. Elsmere, had dropped a little curtsey learnt at a German school, and full of grace--wandered off a little way along the water-side. Meynell, struggling with depression, tried to make conversation--on anything and everything that was not Upcote Minor, its parish, or its church. Mrs. Elsmere's gentle courtesy never failed; yet behind it he was conscious of a steely withdrawal of her real self from any contact with his. He talked of Oxford, of the great college where he had learnt from, the same men who had been Elsmere's teachers; of current books, of the wild flowers and birds of the Chase; he did his best; but never once was there any living response in her quiet replies, even when she smiled. He said to himself that she had judged him, and that the judgments of such a personality once formed were probably irrevocable. Would she discourage any acquaintance with her daughter? It startled him to feel how much the unspoken question hurt. Meanwhile the eyes of his hostess pursued the two girls, and she presently called to them, greeting their reappearance with an evident change and relaxation of manner. She made Hester sit near her, and it was not long before the child, throwing off her momentary awe, was chattering fast and freely, yet, as Mary perceived, with a tact, conscious or unconscious, that kept the chatter within bounds. Mrs. Elsmere watched the girl's beauty with evident delight, and when Meynell rose to go, and Hester with him, she timidly drew the radiant creature to her and kissed her. Hester opened her big eyes with surprise. Catharine Elsmere sat silent a moment watching the two departing figures; then as Mary found a place in the grass beside her, she said, with some constraint: "You walked with him from Maudeley?" "Mr. Meynell? Yes, I found him there at tea. He was very anxious to pay his respects to you; so I brought him." "I can't imagine why he should have thought it necessary." Mary colored brightly and suddenly, under the vivacity of the tone. Then she slipped her hand into her mother's. "You didn't mind, dearest? Aunt Rose likes him very much, and--and I wanted him to know you!" She smiled into her mother's eyes. "But we needn't see him anymore if--" Mrs. Elsmere interrupted her. "I don't wish to be rude to any friend of Aunt Rose's," she said, rather stiffly. "But there is no need we should see him, is there?" "No," said Mary; her cheek dropped against her mother's knee, her eyes on the water. "No--not that I know of." After a moment she added with apparent inconsequence, "You mean because of his opinions?" Catharine gave a rather hard little laugh. "Well, of course he and I shouldn't agree; I only meant we needn't go out of our way--" "Certainly not. Only I can't help meeting him sometimes!" Mary sat up, smiling, with her hands round her knees. "Of course." A pause. It was broken by the mother--as though reluctantly.