tial to feminine beauty. She had no brilliancy of complexion, no pearly whiteness, no vivid carnation; nor, indeed, did she possess the dark brilliance of a brunette. But there was a speaking earnestness in her face; an expression of mental faculty which the squire now for the first time perceived to be charming.
And then he knew how good she was. He knew well what was her nature; how generous, how open, how affectionate, and yet how proud! Her pride was her fault: but even that was not a fault in his eyes. Out of his own family there was no one whom he had loved, and could love, as he loved her. He felt, and acknowledged that no man could have a better wife. And yet he was there with the express object of rescuing his son from such a marriage!
'You are looking very well, Mary,' he said, almost involuntarily. 'Am I?' she answered, smiling. 'It's very nice at any rate to be complimented. Uncle never pays me any compliments of that sort.'
In truth, she was looking well. She would say to herself over and over again, from morning to night, that Frank's love for her would be, must be, unfortunate; could not lead to happiness. But, nevertheless, it did make her happy. She had before his return made up her mind to be forgotten, and it was so sweet to find that he had been so far from forgetting her. A girl may scold a man in words for rashness in his love, but her heart never scolds him for such offence as that. She had not been slighted, and her heart, therefore, still rose buoyant within her breast.
The doctor soon entered the room. As the squire's visit had been expected by him, he had of course not been out of the house. 'And now I suppose I must go,' said Mary; 'for I know you are going to talk about business. But, uncle, Mr. Gresham says I'm looking very well. Why have you not been able to find that out?'
'She's a dear good girl,' said the squire, as the door shut behind her; 'a dear good girl;' and the doctor could not fail to see that his eyes were filled with tears.
'I think she is,' said he, quietly. And then they both sat silent, as though each was waiting to hear whether the other had anything more to say on that subject. The doctor, at any rate, had nothing more to say.
'I have come here specially to speak to you about her,' said the squire.
'About Mary?'
'Yes, doctor; about her and Frank: something must be done, some arrangement made: if not for our sakes, at least for theirs.'
'What arrangement, squire?'
