"She came to me yesterday, begging that I would waive any objection I might have to your being there. I have made her no answer yet. What answer do you think I ought to make her?"

Mary was astounded at this question, and hesitated in her reply.

"What answer ought you to make her?" she said.

"Yes, Mary. What answer do you think I ought to give? I wish to ask you the question, as you are the person the most concerned."

Mary considered for a while, and then did give her opinion on the matter in a firm voice. "I think you should tell Beatrice, that as you cannot at present receive me cordially in your house, it will be better that you should not be called on to receive me at all."

This was certainly not the sort of answer that Lady Arabella expected, and she was now somewhat astounded in her turn. "But, Mary," she said, "I should be delighted to receive you cordially if I could do so."

"But it seems you cannot, Lady Arabella; and so there must be an end of it."

"Oh, but I do not know that:" and she smiled her sweetest smile. "I do not know that. I want to put an end to all this ill-feeling if I can. It all depends upon one thing, you know."

"Does it, Lady Arabella?"

"Yes, upon one thing. You won't be angry if I ask you another question--eh, Mary?"

"No; at least I don't think I will."

"Is there any truth in what we hear about your being engaged to Frank?"

Mary made no immediate answer to this, but sat quite silent, looking Lady Arabella in the face; not but that she had made up her mind as to what answer she would give, but the exact words failed her at the moment.

"Of course you must have heard of such a rumour," continued Lady Arabella.

"Oh, yes, I have heard of it."

"Yes, and you have noticed it, and I must say very properly. When you went to Boxall Hill, and before that with Miss Oriel's to her aunt's, I thought you behaved extremely well." Mary felt herself glow with indignation, and began to prepare words that should be sharp and decisive. "But, nevertheless, people talk; and Frank, who is still quite a boy" (Mary's indignation was not softened by this allusion to Frank's folly), "seems to have got some nonsense in his head. I grieve to say it, but I feel myself in justice bound to do so, that in this matter he has not acted as well as you have done. Now, therefore, I merely ask you whether there is any truth in the report.

If you tell me that there is none, I shall be quite contented."

"But it is altogether true, Lady Arabella; I am engaged to Frank Gresham."

"Engaged to be married to him?"

"Yes; engaged to be married to him."

What was to say or do now? Nothing could be more plain, more decided, or less embarra.s.sed with doubt than Mary's declaration. And as she made it she looked her visitor full in the face, blushing indeed, for her cheeks were now suffused as well as her forehead; but boldly, and, as it were, with defiance.

"And you tell me so to my face, Miss Thorne?"

"And why not? Did you not ask me the question; and would you have me answer you with a falsehood? I am engaged to him. As you would put the question to me, what other answer could I make? The truth is, that I am engaged to him."

The decisive abruptness with which Mary declared her own iniquity almost took away her ladyship's breath. She had certainly believed that they were engaged, and had hardly hoped that Mary would deny it; but she had not expected that the crime would be acknowledged, or, at any rate, if acknowledged, that the confession would be made without some show of shame. On this Lady Arabella could have worked; but there was no such expression, nor was there the slightest hesitation.

"I am engaged to Frank Gresham," and having so said, Mary looked her visitor full in the face.

"Then it is indeed impossible that you should be received at Greshamsbury."

"At present, quite so, no doubt: in saying so, Lady Arabella, you only repeat the answer I made to your first question. I can now go to Greshamsbury only in one light: that of Mr Gresham's accepted daughter-in-law."

"And that is perfectly out of the question; altogether out of the question, now and for ever."

"I will not dispute with you about that; but, as I said before, my being at Beatrice's wedding is not to be thought of."

Lady Arabella sat for a while silent, that she might meditate, if possible, calmly as to what line of argument she had now better take.

It would be foolish in her, she thought, to return home, having merely expressed her anger. She had now an opportunity of talking to Mary which might not again occur: the difficulty was in deciding in what special way she should use the opportunity. Should she threaten, or should she entreat? To do her justice, it should be stated, that she did actually believe that the marriage was all but impossible; she did not think that it could take place. But the engagement might be the ruin of her son's prospects, seeing how he had before him one imperative, one immediate duty--that of marrying money.

Having considered all this as well as her hurry would allow her, she determined first to reason, then to entreat, and lastly, if necessary, to threaten.

"I am astonished! you cannot be surprised at that, Miss Thorne: I am astonished at hearing so singular a confession made."

"Do you think my confession singular, or is it the fact of my being engaged to your son?"

"We will pa.s.s over that for the present. But do let me ask you, do you think it possible, I say possible, that you and Frank should be married?"

"Oh, certainly; quite possible."

"Of course you know that he has not a shilling in the world."

"Nor have I, Lady Arabella."

"Nor will he have were he to do anything so utterly hostile to his father's wishes. The property, you are aware, is altogether at Mr Gresham's disposal."

"I am aware of nothing about the property, and can say nothing about it except this, that it has not been, and will not be inquired after by me in this matter. If I marry Frank Gresham, it will not be for the property. I am sorry to make such an apparent boast, but you force me to do it."

"On what then are you to live? You are too old for love in a cottage, I suppose?"

"Not at all too old; Frank, you know is 'still quite a boy.'"

Impudent hussy! forward, ill-conditioned saucy minx! such were the epithets which rose to Lady Arabella's mind; but she politely suppressed them.

"Miss Thorne, this subject is of course to me very serious; very ill-adapted for jesting. I look upon such a marriage as absolutely impossible."

"I do not know what you mean by impossible, Lady Arabella."

"I mean, in the first place, that you two could not get yourselves married."

"Oh, yes; Mr Oriel would manage that for us. We are his parishioners, and he would be bound to do it."

"I beg your pardon; I believe that under all the circ.u.mstances it would be illegal."

Mary smiled; but she said nothing. "You may laugh, Miss Thorne, but I think you will find that I am right. There are still laws to prevent such fearful distress as would be brought about by such a marriage."

"I hope that nothing I shall do will bring distress on the family."

"Ah, but it would; don't you know that it would? Think of it, Miss Thorne. Think of Frank's state, and of his father's state. You know enough of that, I am sure, to be well aware that Frank is not in a condition to marry without money. Think of the 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.