"Father, I will never marry without your consent, I have told you so often, and you cannot mistrust my word," was the gentle but firmly uttered reply, which silenced the angry father.

With all these excitements and anxieties, we cannot wonder that the nine or ten months which have pa.s.sed away since she stood at the window in Park Lane, have changed her appearance.

Mary Armstrong, however, has lost nothing by this change. The face, though slightly thinner, still retains its delicate oval. The eyes are as large and bright, and the hair as glossy and luxuriant as ever. The rich colour on her check is softened down to the bloom of a peach, and the figure, though more fully developed, is still slender and graceful in every movement.

Mary Armstrong was happy in having a mother as her confidential friend; she was not likely to

"Let concealment like a worm i' the bud, Feed on her damask cheek;"

and she possessed too much good sense to allow herself to become the victim of disappointed affection. She knew that the best remedy against such a disease was active employment of mind and body--consequently her books, her music, her studies were diligently followed, as well as more active domestic duties.

No day pa.s.sed without a quick walk alone or a quieter one with her mother. The books she read were princ.i.p.ally those requiring deep thought, and the study of languages was varied by scientific subjects.

Poetry for a time she set aside, it too often touched upon a tender string, which she felt must not be allowed to vibrate, even her favourite Milton lay unnoticed on the shelf, its pages awoke memories too painful to be encouraged. Sometimes she would bring out her "Algebra" or "Euclid," and induce her father to work a few sums or problems with her during the evening.

There was a sad gratification when after one of these occasions, her father closed the book, and as she rose and wished him good night, he drew her towards him, and said--

"Ah, if my daughter would only be guided by me in other matters, as she has been in her studies, I should have nothing left to wish for."

Poor Mary, the kind and gently expressed words cost her sleepless hours of anxious thought while trying to satisfy her conscience that she was acting rightly towards her father. Only at last, when she answered the question, "Ought I to marry a man alone for the sake of money or position?" with an emphatic "No," could she close her eyes in sleep. She was ready to give up Henry Halford--her unselfish affection made her hope not only that he was learning to forget her, but also that he might soon meet with some one to supply the place of his dear mother in his heart, but to marry any one else herself, she felt to be an impossibility.

More than once lately they had met and bowed to each other as mere pa.s.sing acquaintances. Often on leaving church on a Sunday Mr. Armstrong had raised his hat to the amiable and stricken old man, who pa.s.sed them leaning on the arm of his son, but farther approach to intimacy was felt to be impossible.

And so the months had pa.s.sed, and now the early summer was decking gardens, orchard, and meadow with its sweetest blossoms. Through the open window at which Mary stood on this May afternoon of which we write came the fragrant perfume of lilac and May blossom. The birds were tuning their little throats for a chorus of song, and a stillness in the soft air seemed to produce a feeling in the heart of Mary of calm submission to the will of "Him who orders all things in heaven and earth."

Suddenly she started; a carriage was approaching, and instead of pa.s.sing by as she expected, it drew up and stopped at the gate.

"Mamma," she said, entering her mother's room from the dressing-room, "there is a carriage at the gate, whose can it be?"

Mrs. Armstrong joined her daughter at the window. They saw with surprise Mr. Armstrong and a youth alight, and then turn to a.s.sist a lady.

"Who can it be, Mary?"

"Mamma! I can see her face, it is cousin Sarah; oh, how glad I am, shall we go down and receive her, mamma, and I suppose that is one of her sons."

The ladies were in the hall to receive the guest, who forgot her surprise at the appearance and style of the house, in her pleasure at meeting Mrs. Armstrong and Mary.

They both drew her into the drawing-room followed by Jack, who seemed more surprised at the cordial and even affectionate welcome his mother received from these elegant ladies than by the luxuriantly furnished room into which they had been taken. In fact poor Sarah was quite overcome by her reception, and when Mary offered to take her upstairs and to show Jack into her brother Edward's room, she said, "My dear, I never expected you would be so pleased to see such a homely old body as I am."

"But we are pleased to see you, cousin Sarah, and I don't forget how very nice it is to be homely as you call yourself at Meadow Farm--and is it Jack you have brought with you?"

"Yes, my dear, he has been offered a situation in London, and that is my reason for coming."

"I am very glad something has brought you here at last, cousin Sarah, and I'm sure mamma is also, we so often talk about you; but you want your box, I daresay--Oh, here it is," continued Mary, opening the door in answer to a knock; "and now I'll leave you, and when dinner is nearly ready I'll come for you, it wants twenty minutes to six."

Cousin Sarah, when left to herself, quietly opened her box, feeling glad that she had brought a best dress, in which she might venture to show herself amidst all this elegance. She glanced round the bedroom, so luxuriously furnished, with large Arabian bedstead and silken hangings, marble washstands, rich carpet, luxurious sofa, ma.s.sive wardrobe and numerous mirrors, and said to herself, "all these are bought with Edward's money; but money does not bring happiness even to such a charming girl as Mary Armstrong. She is as beautiful as ever, I can see that, but there's a look in her sweet face that no young girl with all these comforts and luxuries around her ought to have; I'll find out what it means while I'm here, and see if I can't set matters straight."

Cousin Sarah dressed quickly, and then found her way to her son's room.

"I've put on my best suit, mother," he said; "why how rich cousin Armstrong must be; I never was in such a fine house in my life. I hope I shall behave properly at dinner."

Cousin Sarah laughed, but finding her son ready she turned towards the stairs and met Mary coming to fetch them. Mary Armstrong saw at a glance that with all Mrs. John Armstrong's homeliness she had natural good taste in dress. Her grey silk dress, though not very fashionable, was well made, and of rich material; while the real lace of which cap, collar and sleeves were made, might have excited the envy of a d.u.c.h.ess.

Jack, too, in his new black suit, was a son of whom a mother might well feel proud, and Mary, pa.s.sing by his mother, held out her hand, saying, pleasantly, "I must shake hands with you, cousin Jack; I have often heard cousin Sarah talk about you, but we never have met till to-day, and now I hope we shall be friends."

"There is no doubt of that," said his mother, coming to the rescue, for Jack seemed unable to speak, such a fairy vision as cousin Mary, in her pale blue silk and lace, was something new to the youth of sixteen, and so different to the buxom damsels on his father's farm, that he was for a time struck dumb.

Mr. Edward Armstrong led his father's niece into the dining-room with no little satisfaction at her appearance.

Mary took the shy youth under her care so effectually, that in a very short time his shyness had vanished, and he could reply to the remarks addressed to him with intelligence and ease.

She was amused to observe the strong likeness in the youth to her own father, and greatly interested in finding that he possessed the same mathematical and scientific tastes. This was discovered after dinner when Mr. Armstrong examined the boy, and delighted cousin Sarah by his commendations, not only of the correctness of his answers to various questions, but also for the intelligence and modesty with which they were given.

Jack never forgot that happy evening, everything around him was new, strange, and delightful.

The nicely furnished dining-room, the table glittering with plate and gla.s.s, the dinner itself, Mr. Armstrong's kind notice, the soft voice and manners of Mrs. Armstrong, of whom he felt a kind of awe, his fairy-like cousin, and last, but not least, the beautiful music and singing with which she entertained them, all combined to make this evening the happiest of the happy week he spent at Lime Grove.

On Sunday cousin Sarah and her son accompanied the family to church, and circ.u.mstances occurred which gave her the opportunity she sought in her anxiety about Mary.

Dr. Halford's boys occupied the two front seats in the gallery in front of the organ, and on each side the clock, for the church was very old-fashioned, Mr. Armstrong's family sat in a front seat of the side gallery, and under that gallery was the private pew of Dr. Halford's family.

Henry generally sat with his father, the boys being always under the supervision of two of the masters, but now the pew was occupied by poor f.a.n.n.y's children.

On this Sunday, therefore, Mary saw with surprise and uneasiness, Mr.

Henry Halford seated at the end of a pew occupied by the boys, and only one of the masters present.

She could not avoid seeing him, and she knew that her parents must have noticed him also.

The presence of two strangers in Mr. Armstrong's pew attracted for a few moments Henry Halford's looks towards them, to Mary's great discomposure; but when the service began these two young people seemed to remember that they were present to join in the sacred services of G.o.d's house, and not to look about them.

There was something in the manner, not only of Mr. Armstrong, but also of Mary and her mother, which directed cousin Sarah's eyes more than once to the gentleman seated with those superior-looking schoolboys, many of whom appeared older than her son. Jack also seemed so fascinated to watch them, that more than one glance from his mother was necessary to remind him of the place and the hour.

Altogether it was a most perplexing position, and Mary was glad to see her father rise quickly when the service ended, as if anxious to avoid a meeting with the schoolmaster and his son, but he failed in the attempt.

Henry Halford, remembering that his nieces now required attention as well as his aged father, left the boys to be marshalled home by the a.s.sistant, and hastened to the lower door to meet them.

Another surprise therefore awaited Mary. On reaching the church entrance they met face to face Old Doctor Halford, supported on one side by the arm of his son, and on the other by a tall handsome girl, apparently about eighteen years of age. Mary did not at first notice another younger girl, dressed in exactly the same manner, who walked behind Dr.

Halford and his supporters, with a boy nearly as tall as herself.

The usual formal courtesies pa.s.sed between them as they met; but the sudden shock at seeing, as she thought, a strange young lady on such friendly terms with the doctor and his son, deprived Mary for a moment of self-possession. Recovering herself with an effort she returned the notice of the gentlemen, and hurried on to join her mother with an aching at her heart.

Cousin Sarah had seen the fair face turn white even to the lips, and she drew Mr. Armstrong forward, leaving Mary with her mother and Jack.

"Who is that very pleasing looking young man, Edward?" was her first question.

"What young man?" was the half-irritated reply.

"I am speaking of the gentleman we met just now, who was supporting, I suppose, his aged father; Edward, he reminded me of dear uncle."

Edward Armstrong winced. The good and intelligent old yeoman, his own father, was in position and education far inferior to Dr. Halford, and yet he despised the latter because he was a schoolmaster and poor. He at last replied with an effort,--"Father and son are schoolmasters, and the son is going to be a parson."