Walter told Julia about it the same night, and her eyes were
eloquent too.
The next day he had a walk with Mary Bartley, and told her all about it.
She hung upon him, and gazed admiringly into his eyes all the time, and
they parted happy lovers.
Mr. Bartley met her at the gate, "Mary," said he, gravely, "who was that
I saw with you just now?"
"Cousin Walter."
"I feared so. You are too much with him."
Mary turned red and white by turns, but said nothing.
Bartley went on: "You are a good child, and I have always trusted you. I
am sure you mean no harm. But you must be more discreet. I have just
heard that you and that young man are looked upon as engaged lovers. They
say it is all over the village. Of course a father is the last to hear
these things. Does Mrs. Easton know of this?"
"Oh yes, papa, and approves it."
"Stupid old woman! She ought to be ashamed of herself."
"Oh, papa!" said Mary, in deep distress; "why, what objection can there
be to Cousin Walter?"
"None whatever as a cousin, but every objection to intimacy.
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