Mrs. Armstrong was quite contented to remain silent. The easy and rather satirical tone in which Mary spoke of Dr. Halford's son removed all apprehension from her mind for the present.

Mr. Armstrong she knew too well would harshly oppose marriage for his daughter with any man who did not possess the means of making a handsome settlement on his wife, and raising her to the position of her mother's relations. Neither of Mary's parents wished her to marry young: the idea of losing her was agony to Mrs. Armstrong, and a constant dread had now arisen in the mother's heart lest this new position in a country home, which had already drawn them into society, might lead Mary to form a girlish attachment not in accordance with the conditions laid down by her father.

Mr. Armstrong, however, had no such fears; Mary's ready acquiescence in all his wishes, and the evident respect she had always shown to his opinions, caused him to overlook in his child a will as firm and unbending as his own.

Hitherto none of his requirements had been opposed to the deeper or more sensitive feelings of her nature. Mary could overcome her repugnance so long as her father's wishes only required the sacrifice of certain conventional rules, and minor matters of opinion. But he could make no distinction, and he was prepared to expect implicit obedience in every point, even where her wishes were opposed to his. The thought that she would ever fail in this obedience never entered his mind.

Mrs. Armstrong understood her daughter's character more correctly than her husband, with all his boasted superiority of intellect, and therefore she dreaded a pa.s.sage of arms between these two so near and dear to her.

The trial was more closely at hand than even she for a moment antic.i.p.ated.

Little Freddy often brought home from school a full and particular account of some incident that had occurred during the day, and in which he had been greatly interested.

These incidents were listened to by Mary only out of love to her little brother; and although very often Mr. Henry Halford's name stood prominent in these narrations, Mary's interest on that account was very little excited. It gratified her, however, to find that the child was treated with great kindness by both father and son, and to hear his earnest declaration--

"Oh, Mary, I like Mr. Henry Halford so much, he is so kind to us little ones in the playground; he plays at peg-top, and all sorts of games, with us; and sometimes we go into the cricket-field, without the big boys, and he teaches us how to play; isn't it kind of him?"

All this was very pleasing to Mrs. Armstrong, more especially as she could discern very clearly that Mary listened to it all as a matter of course. No suspicion that this kindness to her brother could arise from a wish to win the sister, or for her sake, entered her mind.

Not so her mother; suspicions of this kind would intrude themselves at times, only to be set aside by her daughter's evident indifference.

Mrs. Armstrong, however, was wrong. Henry Halford's kindness to the little boys arose from a natural love of children, and Freddy Armstrong was not favoured more than others. All thoughts of the fair girl whose appearance had so confused him on that cold January morning had been banished with determination. After school duties ceased he became, as usual every day, absorbed in his books, his only recreation a game at cricket, or, as we have heard, the fun with the juniors, which gave him the greatest pleasure. And so the weeks pa.s.sed on, and brought with them signs of the approach of spring.

One afternoon, about a fortnight before Easter, Mr. Armstrong returned from the City rather earlier than usual, to have a ride with his daughter. He had on this account travelled to town and back by the omnibus.

"Give me half an hour's rest, Mary," he said, as she came in full of pleasure to ask when he wished to start.

"Yes, papa," she replied, "and there will be also time for you to have a cup of tea with mamma; she generally has it about four o'clock." Away ran Mary to hasten the refreshing "cup which cheers but not inebriates,"

while Mr. Armstrong seated himself and began to talk to his wife.

"I shall not be sorry to have a cup of tea," he said, "for I rode outside the 'bus, and the roads are too dusty to be pleasant, whatever the old proverb may say, and perhaps with some truth, that 'a peck of March dust is worth a king's ransom.'"

"If it is good for the gardens and the harvest to have a dry March,"

said Mrs. Armstrong, "it is certainly worth while to bear the inconvenience, and my health is always much better in dry, clear weather. Your proverb about March dust will form another incentive for patience when it troubles me while taking my daily walks."

"How much improved your health appears lately, my dear Maria!" remarked her husband, after a pause; "and you are looking almost as young as ever. I am not a little pleased to find you in such good spirits, because I want you to join me in accepting an invitation next week to dinner at the Drummonds'; I suppose you have returned Mrs. Drummond's visit?"

"Oh yes, a few weeks ago; she is a most pleasant, lady-like woman, and we were friends almost immediately."

"Then you will raise no objection, my dear; indeed, I am sure the change will be good for you. Mary is also invited, and I have my reasons for wishing her to go. Drummond rode with me from town to-day, and I accepted his invitation for Mary and myself at once, but for you conditionally."

"I shall be happy to go with you," replied his wife. "The Drummonds are people I should wish Mary to know, and I am much more able to bear an evening visit at this time of the year than in the depth of winter. You must remember, Edward, that even when living in London I always regained health and strength in the spring and early summer."

"And here, of course, your health and strength are doubly sure to improve in these seasons," he replied, laughing. "Ah, well, darling, I am glad we made the change for your sake."

The appearance of the tea put a stop to the conversation, and in a very short time Mrs. Armstrong stood at the door watching her daughter as she sprang lightly to her saddle, on a beautiful grey mare, her father's latest gift.

Bucephalus is not, however, quite discarded; sometimes in the morning she will take him for a canter over the heath, or in the holidays join her brothers, one of whom rides Rowland's pony, and the other Bucephalus. Edward Armstrong is fifteen now, and has grown too tall for Boosey; during the absence of the elder boys the pony belongs entirely to Freddy, who is learning to ride under Mary's guidance.

During their ride, Mr. Armstrong told Mary of the invitation to dinner at Mr. Drummond's. "You will like to pay such a visit, I suppose," he said, "and I have accepted the invitation for you as well as myself."

"Will it be a large party?" asked Mary, timidly; she had no thought of opposing her father's wishes, after hearing that he had accepted the invitation for her, but she remembered her discomfort at her first dinner-party, at which a large number of guests were present, some of them not very refined, and certainly not well-bred.

In fact, she could not help making comparisons between the noisy, and to her, almost vulgar visitors at the table; or at the evening parties of the rich in the neighbourhood, and the quiet refinement and dignity of such gatherings at the homes of her mother's relations.

Something akin to Mary's thoughts was pa.s.sing through her father's mind before he answered her question, and influenced his reply.

"Mr. Drummond told me to-day that he did not expect more than six or eight guests in addition to his own family. And, Mary," he continued, "you need not fear meeting coa.r.s.eness or vulgarity at Mr. Drummond's table. Your mother has readily consented to accompany us, and that is a sufficient proof that she considers the friends of Mrs. Drummond fit a.s.sociates for her daughter."

"Oh, papa," said Mary, "I hope you do not think it was pride that made me speak as if I did not wish to go, only I do dread a large number of people; and papa----" But Mary paused; she hesitated, with the delicacy of a refined mind, to speak of the coa.r.s.e flattery to which she had been subjected at one dinner-party by some of the gentlemen when they left the dining-room.

"And what, my dear?" said her father, gently.

"I told mamma," she replied, "when I came home, but I only meant to ask you whether some of the gentlemen at Mr. Ward's dinner party had not taken too much wine."

A flush of indignation rose to Mr. Armstrong's brow as he thought of what, under such circ.u.mstances, some of them might have said to his gentle daughter. Determining to ask her mother, however, he merely said,--"I fear such was the case, Mary, but you are not likely to meet with anything of that kind at the Drummonds'. The practice of staying for hours after dinner, drinking wine, till men make themselves unfit for the company of ladies, is happily becoming less frequent in good society. And now," he added, looking at his watch, "we must canter for awhile, or we shall be late for dinner."

CHAPTER XIII.

A CHANGE OF OPINION.

Among the guests expected at Mr. Drummond's table on that memorable occasion was a gentleman of great note in the scientific world, to whom Mr. Armstrong had been very anxious to be introduced. Indeed, this wish had influenced him greatly in his ready acceptance of the invitation.

"My friend Professor Logan will dine with us on that evening," had been Mr. Drummond's remark to Mr. Armstrong. "I suppose you have read his address at the Royal Society on the inventions of the last thirty years?

It was correctly reported in the _Times_."

"Yes, indeed, and there I saw it," was the eager reply. "Is Professor Logan your friend, Drummond? It will be a great privilege to meet such a man."

"And he will be equally pleased with you," was the reply; "indeed, I expect it will be quite a learned gathering, for I have asked three or four other men of education to join us, and I almost fear the evening will be dull for Mrs. Armstrong and your bright, lively daughter; but Mrs. Drummond will be terribly disappointed if they do not come, and she will make the evening as pleasant as possible for them. My nieces are very musical, and----"

"Oh, pray do not make the invitation more attractive than it is already," interrupted Mr. Armstrong. "My daughter's tastes resemble my own, and she has had advantages of education which I have not. I'm afraid, Drummond, your friends will expect too much from a self-taught man like myself if you have, as you say, placed me on the list of your 'learned' acquaintance."

"Nonsense, Armstrong!" was the reply, as the omnibus stopped for that gentleman to alight. "Mind," he added, as he waved his hand in farewell, "we shall expect you all on Tuesday."

Mr. Armstrong's close carriage arrived at Argyle Lodge only five minutes before the hour appointed for dinner. In a very short time, therefore, Mary found herself being conducted to the dinner-table by a gentleman whose face seemed familiar to her, but whose name, when spoken by her hostess, she had not caught.

"I think I have had the pleasure of meeting Miss Armstrong once before, when she brought her little brother to school," was the remark which made Mary turn and look at her companion.

There was a smile on the face she had called plain, but it did not now deserve such an epithet. The rough, dark hair, which in its disorder she had likened to a "p.u.s.s.y-cat's tail in a rage," was now arranged in shining wavy curls across the broad forehead; the dark eyebrows almost meeting over the nose gave character to the face, and a look in the deep blue eyes, although Mary Armstrong had quickly recognised her companion as Henry Halford, made her ask herself if she had really ever seen them before. So changed was the face, so expressive the glance, so winning the smile, that Mary could only stammer out with a blushing face--

"I beg your pardon, Mr. Halford; I did not at first recognise you, but I do now."

They entered the dining-room as she said this, and during the slight commotion occasioned by placing every one with due regard to the varied requirements which make the position of a hostess so difficult, Mary could only recall with shame and wonder her satirical description of Henry Halford.