“I think, my dear,” he said, “that you have been of late more easily tired than you used to be.” “Oh, no,” said Mary, with a sudden flush, for she was jealous of her secret, and shy as a girl, not knowing how it ever could be put into words. She got up quickly, shaking her skirts from the dead leaves which had been lying in the crevices. “I am not in the least tired now,” she said, “and it is time to get home.” “On account of little Duke?” said Lord Frogmore. “You may be sure the boy is happy enough. I think you are as fond of that boy, Mary, as if he were your own.” She had been a step in advance of him going on, but now she turned round suddenly and gave him a look--such a look. Never in all their life before had Mary’s mild eyes confessed such unfathomable things. The look filled Lord Frogmore with amazement and dismay. “Mary,” he said, “my dear, what is the matter? What has happened? What is wrong?” She made him no reply; but suddenly the light went out altogether from the eyes which had turned to him so solemn and terrible a look. And Mary did what she had never done in her life--slid down at his feet in a faint, falling upon the grass on the side of the way. It was all so quiet--so instantaneous--that poor Lord Frogmore was taken doubly unprepared. There was nothing violent even about the fall. She slipped from his side noiselessly, and lay there without a movement or a cry. The old lord was for a moment terrified beyond measure, but presently perceived that it was merely a faint, and knelt down by her, taking off her bonnet, fanning her with his hat, watching till the life should come back. He had shouted for help, but Mary came to herself before any help arrived. She raised herself from the ground, the damp freshness of which had restored her, and put up her hand to her uncovered head in confusion. And then the colorless face suddenly flushed red, and she cried, “Oh, what have I been doing? I beg your pardon. I beg your pardon, Frogmore.” “Hush, my dear, you have done nothing but what is quite natural,” said the old lord, who was far more experienced than Mary. “Don’t hurry yourself, nor jump up in that impetuous way. Gently, gently, my love, here is some one coming. Bring round the pony carriage at once, Gregory, your mistress is tired. At once, I say.” “Oh, I can walk. There is really nothing the matter, Frogmore.” “Nothing at all, my dear,” said Lord Frogmore cheerfully. “Keep quite quiet and don’t disturb yourself.” He sat down beside her on the grass, though he knew it was very bad for him. “Never mind the bonnet, you don’t want it this pleasant day. And what pretty hair you have, Mary. It is a good thing when your bonnet falls off, it shows your pretty hair.”