This gentleman was, as yet, in happy ignorance of the news in store for him. He welcomed his daughter home with undisguised pleasure, and listened to her lively and vivid descriptions of what she had seen and heard, and of the wonderful and delightful places she had visited with great interest.

Not once, however, did the name of Henry Halford escape her lips. She spoke in a general way of Charles Herbert's college friends who had met them in their walks and shown them the lions of Oxford, but not one was singled out for any particular description.

Mrs. Armstrong watched her daughter's countenance as she talked, and noticed a something in her manner and appearance that marked the change from girlhood to womanhood--a certain reticence on some points, unlike Mary's usual frankness and candour.

"Something has occurred," said the gentle mother to herself, "and Mary's wish to conceal it is painful to her natural frank truthfulness. But she will tell me by-and-by when we are alone."

Happy is the daughter who makes a confidante of her mother in preference to one of her own age and s.e.x, and thrice happy is the mother who feels that she knows all that daughter has to confide--of course supposing that mother to be one who is anxious for her child's happiness, and able to give her good advice.

Perhaps, after all, mothers whose only ambition is to see their daughters married for the sake of riches and position, are not likely to gain their confidence on any subject.

Mrs. Armstrong would have been the very last to take an undue advantage of the girlish confidence of her daughter, although she trembled at the thought that what Mary might have to tell would be displeasing to her father.

With all Mr. Armstrong's habit of looking upon gentle, amiable women as inferior in intellect and deficient in mental strength, he would have been rather surprised to find that his wife understood his daughter's character better than himself.

Days pa.s.sed, however, after her return from Oxford, before Mrs.

Armstrong had any opportunity for discovering Mary's secret, and then it was only by accident that the truth came out.

One fine afternoon in July Mrs. Armstrong, with Mary and her three brothers, was returning home along the high road, in which stood their own house and Englefield Grange. They had pa.s.sed the latter, which was less than a quarter of a mile from Lime Grove on the opposite side of the road, when Freddy exclaimed--

"O mamma, here comes Mr. Henry Halford."

And, regardless of ceremony, he started off at a rapid pace to meet him.

Taking the hand of his little pupil, who literally danced along by his side, Henry Halford advanced to greet Mrs. Armstrong and her daughter with the easy self-possession of a gentleman.

Yet there was a flush on his face as he shook hands with Mrs. Armstrong, which changed to paleness when he greeted Mary, and spoke to the boys, Edward and Arthur.

The latter had heard so much of Freddy's school and the masters, that they were earnest in their pet.i.tions to be allowed to stay at home and attend with their brother at Dr. Halford's. They had heard from Mary of Mr. Henry Halford's wonderful cleverness, and they now had eyes for no one else as he stood talking to their mother.

"Have you recovered from your fatigue at Oxford, Miss Armstrong?" was one of his first questions.

Mary saw her mother glance at her with surprise, but the commonplace question had set her at her ease, and she replied--"Yes, quite, thank you, Mr. Halford. It was a most delightful visit, yet I was glad to get home again."

While the two young people continued to talk of what had been seen and heard at Oxford, Mrs. Armstrong would now and then make some remark, and the boys listened with interest.

Yet as she did so across the mother's mind pa.s.sed the memory of the dinner-party at Mr. Drummond's.

Were her fears about to be realised? Had these young people met at Oxford and formed an acquaintance fraught with disappointment to Mary and pain to herself in consequence of her husband's displeasure? Still as they talked she could see the clear grey eyes of the young tutor light up with a pleasure which made Mary droop her own and blush beneath his gaze.

And then another recollection flashed upon her Mary had not mentioned the fact of having met Henry Halford at Oxford. What did it all mean?

In her anxiety Mrs. Armstrong looked at her watch.

Henry Halford saw the action, and said, quickly--"I am keeping you standing while we talk, Mrs. Armstrong."

And then, to her astonishment, instead of taking his leave, he turned to walk with them towards their home.

Placing himself by Mrs. Armstrong's side, he continued to speak of various subjects so agreeably that she forgot her fears and began to account in her own mind for any attraction her daughter might feel to his society.

They had nearly reached home, when Mrs. Armstrong, hearing the sound of horse's feet, looked up quickly, and saw her husband alight from his horse and advance to meet them.

He seemed to recognise the stranger in a moment, and as Henry lifted his hat, Mr. Armstrong held out his hand.

"I am glad to see you, Mr. Halford," he said, as the gentlemen shook hands cordially. "I have often thought of our pleasant discussions at Mr. Drummond's that evening. I hope your father is well. Are you staying in our neighbourhood?" he added, scarcely allowing Henry time to reply respecting his father's health.

"I am a neighbour of yours, Mr. Armstrong," he replied, firmly. Henry Halford had decided upon what course to pursue with this gentleman, and was therefore prepared to act candidly and openly.

"A neighbour, Mr. Halford? then why have you not paid us a visit before this? I never give dinner-parties, but if at any time you and your father will join our family dinner-table at six o'clock, we shall be most happy to see you. Will you come in now?" he added, as Mrs.

Armstrong moved to open the gate.

"Thank you, not to-day, Mr. Armstrong," he replied, "but I will not forget your kind invitation." And merely raising his hat in farewell to the ladies, and returning Freddy's warm adieu by lifting the boy and kissing him, Henry Halford turned towards his own home, feeling greatly elated. Was not this meeting with Mr. and Mrs. Armstrong full of hopefulness as to the result of a project on which he had made up his mind?

Mary escaped to her room to dress for dinner with every nerve quivering with excitement.

What would be the result of this meeting? Why had Henry Halford forced his company upon her mother? Was he going to ask her father about her, as she had read in books was the custom of gentlemen? And the young girl who had been kept so secluded from society, blushed at the recollection that if Henry Halford meant what he said on that evening in Christchurch Meadows, he must wish her to be his wife.

Mary Armstrong had never been joked about sweethearts and flirtation; to her mother there had always appeared a want of womanly delicacy and refinement in making such things a subject for ridicule, and Mary had grown to womanhood with the same innate refinement. She had no girl friends of her own age to tell her their tales of love and conquest, of discarded lovers, and contemptible treatment of honourable proposals, as conduct of which a woman might be proud. She had gained her ideas of love from poetry, and Milton's Eve before the fail was her _beau ideal_ of what a woman should be--

"For contemplation he and valour formed, For softness she, and sweet attractive grace; He for G.o.d only, she for G.o.d in him.

... Though his eye sublime declared Absolute rule ... implied Subjection, but required with gentle sway, And by her yielded."

No doubt poets describe ideal characters not to be found in these fast days of practical utilitarianism. What is an ideal worth when compared with the real earthly good which money can produce? Yet money cannot produce happiness, with all its power; and the ruling G.o.d of the present day has caused more unhappiness in domestic life by its presence than by its absence. Mary Armstrong had formed her own _beau ideal_ of what a husband ought to be, and certainly in the component parts of this ideal money had no place. She had never known the want of money, and was therefore ignorant of its value. She was to learn this lesson by bitter experience.

Very little remark was made at dinner on the evening of which we write respecting the meeting with Henry Halford.

Mrs. Armstrong avoided the subject as much as her daughter, but for very different reasons; and her brothers, who had not been at home from school long, were full of talk about their examinations and their prizes. But with the dessert Freddy made his appearance, and as usual took his place between his father's knees.

Presently Freddy looked up. "Papa," he said, "isn't Mr. Henry Halford a nice man?"

"Ah, yes, I saw him kiss you, Freddy, as if you were old friends; when have you seen him before to-day?"

"Oh, often, papa, and he kisses the other little boys too when we're in the playground, and he's so kind to us in the schoolroom."

"Schoolroom! what schoolroom? Who are you talking about, Freddy?"

"About Mr. Henry Halford, papa; he used to teach the little boys' cla.s.s at our school--Dr. Halford's, you know, papa, where I go at Englefield Grange. Dr. Halford is Mr. Henry's father. He hasn't taught us since Easter, because he's been to Oxford learning to be a clergy man."

There was silence for a few moments. Mr. Armstrong glanced at his wife and daughter.

"Did you know this when we met the father and son at Drummond's?" he asked his wife.

"Of course I did," she replied.

"Why did you not mention it to me?"

Much as Mrs. Armstrong dreaded an angry word from her husband, she could not utter an untruth.

"I had my reasons," she said, calmly; "they cannot be explained now, I will tell you when we are alone."