position which Mr. Gresham's only son should hold in the county; think of the old name, and the pride we have in it; you have lived among us enough to understand all this; think of these things, and then say whether it is possible such a marriage should take place without family distress of the deepest kind. Think of Mr. Gresham; if you truly love my son, you could not wish to bring on him all this misery and ruin.'
Mary now was touched, for there was truth in what Lady Arabella said. But she had no power of going back; her troth was plighted, and nothing that any human being could say should shake her from it. If he, indeed, chose to repent, that would be another thing.
'Lady Arabella,' she said, 'I have nothing to say in favour of this engagement, except that he wishes it.'
'And is that a reason, Mary?'
'To me it is; not only a reason, but a law. I have given him my promise.'
'And you will keep your promise even to his own ruin?'
'I hope not. Our engagement, unless he shall choose to break it off, must necessarily be a long one; but the time will come—'
'What! when Mr. Gresham is dead?'
'Before that, I hope.'
'There is no probability of it. And because he is headstrong, you, who have always had credit for so much sense, will hold him to this mad engagement?'
'No, Lady Arabella; I will not hold him to anything to which he does not wish to be held. Nothing that you can say shall move me: nothing that anybody can say shall induce me to break my promise to him. But a word from himself will do it. One look will be sufficient. Let him give me to understand, in any way, that his love for me is injurious to him—that he has learnt to think so—and then I will renounce my part in this engagement as quickly as you could wish it.'
There was much in this promise, but still not so much as Lady Arabella wished to get. Mary, she knew, was obstinate, but yet reasonable; Frank, she thought, was both obstinate and unreasonable. It might be possible to work on Mary's reason, but quite impossible to touch Frank's irrationality. So she persevered—foolishly.
'Miss Thorne—that is, Mary, for I still wish to be thought your friend—'
'I will tell you the truth, Lady Arabella: for some considerable time past I have not thought you so.'
'Then you have wronged me. But I will go on with what
