“You were very thoughtful, Dick, and I am sure they will appreciate your kindness as I do. How long has Mary been at her father’s, did you say?” “About two weeks. I have three horses in the stable, besides the span for the carriage. Of course you can increase the number, if you wish.” “Three, I think, will be quite sufficient for the present, Dick. I hope the family down on The Great Bell don’t want for money.” “O, no! Ross has drawn all his salary for the year.” “He might have drawn more.” “I offered him all the money he wanted. He has repaired the old house, and made quite a change down there. By the way, Hungerford, here is a little business-office adjoining the library, which I haven’t shown you.” “That shall be for your own use. Do you think Mary would see me, Dick?” “I don’t know; but I don’t think it would be advisable for you to see her.” “Why not?” “I think it would not improve your present morbid state of mind.” “Morbid?” “Yes, morbid. You can think of nothing but her. When I speak, you answer me with never a word but ‘Mary.’ I have assured myself that everything was done that could be done for her comfort. If I haven’t accomplished enough, you can do more.” “I am entirely satisfied, Dick.” “Then why don’t you let her rest? The mischief has been done, and it cannot be helped. Of course she can be nothing more to you now.” “No,” replied Eugene, vacantly. “Then why do you keep dwelling upon her?” “Dick, I feel that I am the cause of all her misfortunes.” “Nonsense! What a stupid idea that is!” exclaimed Dick, impatiently, almost angrily. “Don’t scold at me, Dick; I am as weak as a child.” “Well, I won’t scold at you; but did ever mortal entertain such a ridiculous notion as that you just now expressed? Doubtless there are a dozen girls in the village who have been unfortunate. If you had proposed to them they might have been saved.” “But I loved Mary.” “That does not alter the case.” “And she loved me.” “It is all the same.” “Dick, you told me yourself that I had been tardy; that I did not speak when I ought to have spoken.” “Does that make you responsible for her misfortune? You meant right.” “I do not accuse myself of any moral wrong in the matter; but if I had been less cautious she might have been saved.” “It was your duty to be cautious. With two and a half millions of dollars depending upon your marriage, you would have been guilty, if you had not been cautious, Hungerford. Be a man; don’t reproach yourself, for you are no more responsible for what has happened than I am.” “But it is terrible to think that I might have saved her, if I had spoken even a word.” “No, it isn’t terrible. My dear fellow, this is all bosh. Dismiss the whole subject from your mind.” “That is not so easily done.” “But you are in duty bound to do it. You are making your mother and your sister miserable by your vain repinings. You have everything to make you happy, and you are resolved to luxuriate in your fancied woes.”